


Forbidden

by GarGoyl



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Horror, Mystery, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-08-12 10:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7930783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarGoyl/pseuds/GarGoyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apprentice to a famous vampire hunter, Amelia Jones generally knows better than to play with fire but upon meeting Alin, an exchange student she's only intent on studying at first, things will get a little complicated. A fem!America X vampire!Romania fic I'm doing on a whim and rating may go up. I don't own Hetalia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

A/N – Hello everyone! As if I hadn’t enough ongoing projects on my hands already (when will I ever learn?!) I have now gotten a brusque inspiration as well as shipping desire – if that’s the right word for it – to write this little tale of terror (don’t get your hopes up though, it might not be that scary in the end). So here it is, a (hopefully) short Romaniaxfem!America for my amazing fellow author **dezel**. Enjoy!

* * *

 

Amelia stood there quiet, unmoved, observing the peculiar building through the ever growing downpour. It was a little past midnight and she had classes the next day, as part of the normal life in the _very much_ normal and rather mundane world who knew nothing of the Silent Purge.

Indeed, in this boring, old college town, nobody gave much thought to the rundown place with a pointy, decrepit roof and rotten wood windowframes which held _Borisov’s Magic Books &Gifts Shop_, an altogether crappy business which hardly ever got any customers except for the days before Halloween, when cheap costumes and accessories of all kinds were on sale. No, the ordinary, decent people inhabiting this sleepy little town – maybe Sleepy Hollow would have been a more suitable name for it? – had no idea that Dr. Frederick Jones’s men had secretly stormed the place one dead afternoon and had forcefully dragged the quiet Norwegian student manning the front desk outside in full sunlight, all but drenching him in holy water.

To no effect though, because he had turned out to be human.

Dr. Jones – her younger brother Alfred was so proud of also wearing the name of their favorite uncle, the one secretly called ‘the modern Van Helsing’ – had later chastised them for ignoring proper knowledge in favor of blind suspicion, though Lukas Bondevik was indeed ghostly pale, poor soul. However, someone had yet to lay eyes on Mr.Borisov himself – the owner who was always away on some business – and she knew for a fact that they had successfully gotten their hands on someone worth the hunt, namely the boy covering the nightshift. A thing suspicious in itself, for why would a bookshoop need to be open at night anyway? 

The Silent Purge, while first initiated in this occult-dominated little town, had been an operation of extensive amplitude and what anyone would have called a successful war against the children of the Nosferatu (Amelia couldn’t understand why her uncle wouldn’t just call them ‘vampires’, like everyone else). But to the doctor’s credit, even if some disagreed, it had not been a mindless bloodshed. With the help of the _Artifact_ , Dr.Jones had been able to ascertain with precision which of the captured vampires had been killers (those had been indeed executed on the spot), which had bitten humans but without murdering their victims (those had received various punishments as decided by the Council) and which had resorted to survive on animal blood only (the so-called _innocents_ , who had gotten off with a mere warning). Of course, all surviving vampires had been kept from then onwards on a permanent ‘probation’, needing to come in and have themselves checked with the _Artifact_ on a regular basis.

Amelia knew all this because she was an apprentice in training, hoping to follow in her uncle’s footsteps while her unsuspecting parents assumed her only current preoccupation mostly comprised of an obscure History major. Alfred knew the truth, but only because he’d been inadvertently eavesdropping and had been harshly sworn to silence.

And so, it made even less sense as to why she was here tonight, all alone, spying on the object of her latest self-assigned study – Borisov’s nightshift shop assistant. Like Bondevik, who was crazy enough to still work there during the day even after the brutality he’d suffered, he too was just an exchange student (Romanian) in apparent need of a part-time job, one she’d often spotted in the college halls during evening classes.

But he _was_ a vampire.  

Alin Vasile was peculiar (a thing most believed justified by the mere fact that he was a foreigner - and weren’t they all strange?) and looked peculiar in a somehow _de facto_ way, as if it were the most normal thing in the world and couldn’t be otherwise. The light brown, almost strawberry blond shade of his long and often a bit tousled hair beautifully matched the garnet shade of his eyes in a way which was by no means natural but all the more striking as a result and his flawlessly pale skin had that apparent smoothness of porcelain, which is palpable even without touching.   

Yet Amelia wasn’t interested in him because he was handsome – for there was an undeniable and even overwhelmingly creepy vibe to that borderline genderless beauty of his - but because she thought vampires in general were worth studying, as far as an effective hunter was concerned. And while she’d found no credible excuse to approach him at school, the opportunity had presented itself in the need to buy a present for Alice Kirkland’s upcoming birthday.

Alice was Amelia’s best friend and it was a fact that she had a vast interest in the occult. Both Kirkland siblings had such interests and apparently Arthur had taken his a bit too far, reason for which the Council had even brought him in for questioning at some point (sorcerers of all kinds were disliked and suspected almost as much as vampires). After this incident had somewhat dampened their spirits the two of them had toned down on their excentricities, but Amelia was sure that they continued with their exploits behind closed doors.     

So there, a present for Alice it was.

The inside of the shop was poorly illuminated by some cheap electric candles but the countless raindrops incessantly sliding onto the windows made it impossible for her to make out anything. Still, Amelia knew that he must have been there and when she finally stirred from her hidden spot across the street, the miniscule twin guns strapped to her thighs under the long, battered leather jacket, she knew it was folly and things could have ended very badly. Not only was Alin Vasile not human, but he wasn’t one of the _innocents_ either.    

* * *

 

There was no bell at the door, only an ominous creak of old wood scraping against the floor welcomed the blonde as she stepped into _Borisov’s Magic Books &Gifts Shop _for the first time. The air was stale and musty, just like in the old town library, even if a sharp and steady draft made the wrapping paper laid out on the counter flutter as if nervously moved by an invisible hand. She looked around – aside from the relative neatness of the countless rows of books displayed on shelves of all kinds, there was also a multitude of boxes, jars, trays and miniature cupboards, all thrown together in a dismal jumble, as if someone had just turned the place upside down in a hurried, frantic search.

There was no one in sight.

Amelia started down a random aisle opening to the right of the counter, trying to make out the products on display despite the increasing semi-obscurity and realizing that she hadn’t thought at all of what she wanted to buy for Alice. Maybe she could ask for a recommendation? If anyone actually bothered to show-…

Warned by mere instinct, the blonde turned around brusquely and there _he_ was, lurking like a quiet shadow, mere inches away from her.

“WHOAAA!!! Dude, you scared me, what the fuck?!” Amelia exclaimed, every word genuine in the spur of the moment.

The vampire drew back instantly, his face - which had been the only visible part of him to begin with – now disappearing completely in the shade of a massive bookshelf. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!” he apologized quickly.

“Geez, you could have said something instead of creeping up on me like that!”

“I-I _was_ going to! It’s just I never remember whether it’s ‘how may I help you?’ or ‘what can I do for you’, or… one of them is wrong but I didn’t figure-… Uh, sorry again!”

His foreign accent was obvious as he spoke and his tone was hushed and low probably in the very purpose of concealing it, his English must have not been that good either if he was having doubts about common phrases. For some reason, Amelia softened a bit. 

“Eh… it’s okay, I guess. It’s just that you showed up like that and you… I mean you’re-…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Alin stepped back into the light, awkwardly tugging at the hem of the striped oversized button down shirt he wore over a tight black tee and skinny jeans. She noticed that his nails were painted black. “It’s just that… well, it’s part of the job description. Mr. Borisov would not have ordinary looking employees and simply popping from behind the counter doesn’t cut it either, you know?”  

Amelia nodded, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “Yeah. But there’s a while until Halloween, you know?”

“It’s always Halloween in here, heh, whatever that means. So says Mr.Borisov, it’s good for business.”

“Speaking of Mr.Borisov…” She paused and scowled lightly, as if trying to recall something. “Have you ever… seen the guy? Or he is just one of those mysterious employers you only talk on the phone to, you know, like Charlie from Charlie’s Angels? I mean a friend of mine once tried to get a part time job here and… I don’t know, there was something weird about it,” she said, waving her hand dismissively as she looked around curiously, everywhere but at him.

The vampire stood there observing her, arms crossed and oddly motionless. “Uh… yeah, Mr. Borisov is… how is that expression, ‘real as hell’? Also, nothing weird about the job, but he does only hire creepy people so that he can pay them less.” He bit his bottom lip briefly. “Of course, you didn’t hear that from me.”

Amelia smiled. “No, no, of course. Uh, anyway, I’m here to buy a gift for a friend, it’s her birthday tomorrow and I completely forgot about it!”

“Yeah? What would you like?”

She shrugged. “Um... I don’t know. She’s a big fan of Harry Potter...”

“I’m afraid we don’t keep any Harry Potter stuff in here, Mr. Borisov said that the… francize or something is too costly. Maybe something else?”

“I really don’t know. To be honest, all I could think of was a wand,” the blonde confessed. Oh. Shit. A wand, yeah... this just sounded wrong.  

Alin nodded and walked past her towards the back of the shop, where it was even darker, giving a flick to one of the electric candles which had gone out and bringing it to life anew.

_This shithole is a great place to embarrass oneself big time, I suppose..._

“What?”

Amelia saw the vampire stretching over a pile of rolled carpets and digging somewhere past it. “Huh?”

“I though you said something.”

“No, I didn’t. Here. “ He had pulled out several long boxes – some just plain colourful cardboard, others a cheap velvet imitation – and held them up for her to see. 

The blonde reached tentatively for the box on top, a dark green ‘velvet’ one with a silvery locking, and there it was again, that soft, ever alluring voice she’d heard earlier and which seemed to resound straight into her skull rather than come from the outside.

 _Long, short, thick or thin,_ _I’m afraid that a wand, especially all by itself, might prove an unsuitable gift. After all, it is a rather… frustrating little instrument._

Fingers halting in mid-movement, Amelia looked up at the vampire, but his lips hadn’t moved. He simply looked expectant in a neutral fashion, even if she was under the impression that his eyes shone with hidden mirth. No, no, get a grip on yourself, she inwardly argued, just buy whatever shit and walk out of here. Taking a deep breath, she flipped the lid open and forced a surprised exclamation at the sight of the slightly crooked, knobbly object contained inside.

 _“_ Wow, this one looks great! I mean... uh... just like Voldemort’s, I guess.”

Alin’s gaze shifted from her to the object and his thin eyebrow rose ever-so-slightly as he blinked.  

“Voldemort’s wand,” Amelia clarified, as if there were any need. “I’ll take this!”

“Wonderful. Will that be all?”

She paid quickly, tucking the wrapped gift under her arm, and tripped epically on the threshold on her way out.   

**_To be continued_       **

A/N – tell me if this is any good so far, because I’m getting a ‘half-assed Van Helsing’ vibe from it... Should I press on?


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

A/N – Hello my dear readers! Again I shall plague you with some pointless author notes as it is my habit, but I must confess my surprise at the attention this story has gotten so far on ff.net, considering this is a… _crack_ pairing? I don’t know, maybe it isn’t crack. I don’t see it that way, but rather as an interesting encounter between the old world and the new… or something. Anyway, thank you guys so much for all of your support, it does mean a lot to me to see that people enjoy my stuff!   

 

* * *

 

Alice loved the wand. It was evident in the way her thin, dainty fingers kept sliding over the cheap, roughly polished wood, tracing every imperfection in the lacquer, every twist of the fibers. Even if it was – how had _he_ put it? – a rather frustrating little instrument, all the more so for the Kirklands, Amelia thought, and she could have sat and watched the petite, pigtailed girl’s almost magic-struck reaction for hours.     

“Oh, it’s lovely…” the bespectacled blonde murmured for the umpteenth time. “But Amelia, you shouldn’t have!”

The other girl was pulled from her musings by the sudden change in Alice’s tonality and she raised her chin from the heel of her palm. “What do you mean? It was really cheap! And it’s not like it works, heh-“ Not that it needed to be expressly pointed out or anything.

“No, I mean you shouldn’t have gone there.” Alice’s dreamy expression had suddenly become stern, her thin eyebrow arching severely over the rim of her glasses. “We _know_ why you went and… it’s a very bad idea! Tell her, Arthur!”

The older Kirkland sibling was sitting at the table leafing through a thick, yellowed tome, a delicate china cup filled with black tea balanced precariously on top of the pages. He didn’t bother to lift his gaze, or to stop reading for that matter. “Yes, yes, absolutely… a dreadful idea…” he muttered, obviously not paying any attention.

“Arthur, you tosser!” Alice hissed, the wand’s tip promptly shoved into her brother’s side.”It’s about that boy we talked about yesterday!” 

Arthur flinched at the sudden pain and for sure, the cup’s contents ended up flooding the macramé-covered table. He raised his head at last and Amelia noticed a hideous, jagged scar painted around his neck, sticking out grotesquely against his pale skin. 

“Uh… what the hell is _that_ exactly?”

“I have been doing some research on our family’s ancestry as of late,” the Englishman explained calmly, while standing to hurriedly salvage his scattered books and papers from the ever-spreading mess. “Turns out we’re the descendants of the great Alastair Gray, one of England’s most renowned sorcerers.”

“He was beheaded,” Alice supplied dryly, rolling her eyes.

“Indeed, and here’s my message to your uncle’s Council,” Arthur said defiantly, pointing to the scar on his neck. “The sorcerers still hold their ground!”

One message Amelia hoped the Council would not get anytime soon, for her friends’ sake. Good God, Arthur was a fairly cute boy and even fun to be around every now and then, if only he’d stopped acting like the fucking Mad Hatter…

“Arthur… keep it up and we’ll get burned on the stake eventually, for fuck’s sake!” Alice lamented and was utterly ignored.

“Amelia,” the green-eyed blond said gloomily. “You must understand that my sister and I, we really care about you. And that’s why I will now say something absolutely dreadful… However, I will also ask you to keep it to yourself and, above all, to not confront anyone about it, alright? It won’t do any good, of course, and it will attract unnecessary attention to your… sources.”

‘He’s a vampire, I know that’, she thought, yet said nothing. ‘Yes, I also know that he’s bitten a few people in the past. Please don’t worry about me, guys, I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.’ She said none of that, instead waiting for the lecture to come – it probably did look like she had a crush or something on Alin Vasile and it would have been next to impossible to convince the siblings otherwise.

Only in that very moment Arthur hesitated - a thing which was rather unusual with him – and when he spoke at last, he seemed to do so with some discomfort. “Well, here it is: Vasile and your uncle are far better _acquainted_ than you might think. Dr. Jones favors him, for some occult reason.”

“Oh.”

Amelia sighed and shrugged, having long before decided that it was a good idea not to press on any subject related to her uncle with the Kirklands. It was one of those instances in which being related to the controversial Dr. Frederick Jones turned out to be a pain in the ass. As for that particular piece of information, she numbly let slide, choosing to dismiss it before it could lodge itself into her mind and nag her, prompting further investigation. Dr. Frederick Jones did keep all known vampires under surveillance and Arthur must (could?) have simply misinterpreted whatever it was he’d stumbled upon, especially since he had a personal feud with the Council. Yet, he’d backed down from making any explicit accusation in the last moment, even if it seemed he knew and had wanted to say something far less evasive.

Whatever it was, it was irrelevant anyway. She had no interest in Alin’s relationships with other people, not even with her uncle. He was simply worth studying (and she’d not had any other _subjects_ at hand anyway), Amelia wanted to know how his wicked mind worked and instinctively her whole going about things was a silent challenge. Would he attempt to break the pledge to the Council and risk punishment again?

‘Come get me, if you can’.

* * *

 

“Did your friend like the gift?”

Amelia stuffed her hands a bit awkwardly in the pockets of the oversized cashmere sweater which had replaced the old, battered leather jacket which, after the previous night, had suddenly started giving off a lame, try-too-hard-to-be-cool vibe. She really shouldn’t have come here again, at least not without a proper excuse of sorts (and without her guns!), because now it sure looked like she was stalking Alin. Or _trying to_ stalk the mysterious Mr. Borisov.  

“Uh, yeah, she did. She really did,” the blonde replied eventually, mustering a small, unconvincing laugh. “But then again, she’s Alice Kirkland, Arthur’s sister. Do you know Arthur Kirkland?”

At least that was a pertinent question – the Englishman also studied Universal Literature, same as Alin, and in general he was kind of hard to miss in the rather bland crowd of students. 

The vampire nodded as he went on unboxing what seemed to be newly received merchandise. He was carelessly rummaging through the packages of all sorts further away while Amelia was leaning casually against the front desk, with his back turned and seemingly oblivious to the fact that she could have stolen something or dug into the cash register. But then his ear would have picked the faintest sound and no thief would have made it to the door fast enough to escape him…

“I remember the first time I saw Arthur,” Alin said after a moment, unexpectedly. “I was having an early dinner at the pub with Lukas and he walked in and sat at our table for a beer. I thought he was amazing, really. I’d never seen anyone with such a fantastic charisma.”

“Yeah?” Amelia’s voice came out a little choked by disappointment. Did he… _like_ Arthur? The blonde wondered, her mind instantly beginning to connect probably nonexistent dots (such that maybe the Englishman liked him back, crazy as he was, and was only trying to keep her away from his crush!). And what _dinner_ could have he been having? Could vampires still eat human food?   

“Yeah. Then he said something, I don’t remember what, and I suddenly started having the feeling that the grilled fish in my plate was staring at me… that was creepy. But still, these days I understood that he’s honoring one of his beheaded ancestors by wearing a scar drawn around his neck. I guess it takes balls to do something like that.”

_… especially under the Council’s nose._

There was that voice again, speaking inside her skull and Amelia flinched visibly, taken by surprise, and the warning contained in those words didn’t register with her immediately. She watched Alin intently, but could only spot the briefest, lightest smile making his lips twitch. There was a peculiar, shy reserve about him which seemed to make him constantly temper and hold back his reactions, as if struggling to preserve a sort of vulnerable neutrality to everything. It was both enticing and unsettling.

“Yeah… I mean, he and Alice are my friends,” she heard herself say, out of the blue, “But I’ve always had this feeling that, you know, they’re special and I could only feel… mundane in comparison, no matter how hard I tried, or worked, or…”

The young man finally looked up at her and blinked, appearing genuinely puzzled by the sudden confession. That is, almost as puzzled as Amelia herself. Just where the hell had that come from?! Blurting out to a stranger what she’d never even told herself! Not to mention how damn whiny it had sounded….      

“I guess I know what you mean,” he said tentatively. “I’ve known a few special people myself and, um… not saying that your friends are like that, but the magic wears off eventually and one discovers that they’re just hard to live with.”  

Maybe he didn’t like Arthur after all, seeing how his statement had sounded quite truthful and coming from experience. A small victory though and not one to rejoice too much in, it really wasn’t as if… No. Amelia shook her head quickly, dismissing the unformed illusion.

“A-Anyway, I didn’t come here to pester you with, um… well nonsense, but the other night I was in a rush and forgot to ask if maybe Mr. Borisov would be interested in hiring another part-timer?”    

The vampire resumed his work unperturbed, this time showing no interest or surprise at her question whatsoever. Was she seriously being _that_ predictable?!

“I don’t know, but why don’t you give him a call? You’ll find his private number on the cards there on the front desk.” Alin put down a large box and turned slowly, eyeing the blonde with mirth. “He probably won’t hire you though, not with that rosy, healthy hue in your cheeks… You don’t fit the job description.”

Probably. Amelia rummaged in the small tray for Mr. Borisov’s cards into a pile consisting of all sorts of stupid flyers. “It’s okay, I made myself up as a ghost for a school play once and I’ve gotten more and more experience with every Halloween since. How hard can it be?” 

_I strongly advise you not to seek a job here unless you’ve exhausted all other possibilities…_

The blonde was about to say something in reply, when the boxes Alin was currently stacking accidentally toppled over and she was suddenly confronted with a pile of peculiar objects clattering on the floor, some small, black statues shaped like… phalluses?

“Ah, shit!” The Romanian sank to his knees quickly, with an air of frightened disbelief at what was going on and began to gather the objects, replacing them inside the box.

“What the hell is that?” Amelia asked scowling. First Voldemort’s _wand_ and now…  

Alin turned one of the objects upside down and read the label on the bottom. “Says here that it’s a faithful replica of someone’s… of someone famous. A wizard I think.”   

“Wow… does it bring luck, or-…?”

The vampire picked up the last two pieces and tossed them back in the box irritably, shoving it out of the way. “It’s an aromatic lamp,” he said dryly.

“Wha-… You’re jocking, right?”

“No.” He proceeded to walk up to the front desk and sat behind it, burying his face in his hands. “It’s ceramic and it says in the instructions that you place a lit candle inside through the back of the balls and pour the aromatic oil through the slit on the top…. Please don’t come back here.”

**_To be continued_ **

A/N – Oh my God… this really was a disaster… And it’s only the beginning.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

A/N – Hello everyone! I am back with a new chapter of this little tale and again I must say how excited I am by all the support this fic has been getting so far, it is truly unexpected! In the same time, I see more and more potential in this pairing, so things will be progressing ;) A fair warning though, something a bit sinister will happen in this chap, but nothing to worry about just yet… Enjoy!  

 

* * *

 

Even if it could have hardly been said that things had gone well the previous time, Amelia was looking forward to her next meeting with the vampire student, especially now that she’d actually been provided with a perfectly valid reason. Figuring him out was proving quite the challenge so far – she had assumed that all vampires were naturally inclined to display the sort of sparkling personality which would give them irresistible charm for their victims, yet Alin looked like he couldn’t be bothered to offer as much as a smile – but Amelia was always up for a challenge.

So, next time, she was going to be prepared. She was going to know all the right things to say, or at least appear reasonably cool. Or something like that.      

Only, that didn’t quite work out as planned.

Dr. Jones’s laboratory, as well as the Council’s headquarters, was located inside an old, sturdy brick building nicknamed “the Fortress” and built sometime in the past century by a wealthy eccentric who had wanted his home to resemble a small castle of sorts. Its current inhabitants were thrilled with it, feeling above all safe behind its thick walls, but Amelia found it rather tacky and much too conspicuous for what they were trying to accomplish.    

The blonde didn’t think telling her uncle about her current exploits would have been a good idea under any circumstances, therefore, as much as she could have used his expertise in the matter, it was far simpler to just make use of his books instead. She had free access to the Fortress due to her regular training sessions (officially referred to as _going to the gym_ ) and tonight, as she was just done with practice, she thought she could just pass by the lab and snatch up a volume or two – her uncle probably wouldn’t mind. Or notice in the first place.   

Of course, Amelia didn’t quite think that was she was up to now was per say _wrong_ , yet that tinge of excitement usually associated with the illicit made itself felt as she made her way down the large, gloomy hall, running her fingers through her still damp locks of hair. She’d been lucky so far as to not run into anyone, so there was some hope that maybe Dr. Jones was out as well.   

And right she was – the laboratory was silent and locked. Amelia made swift use of the spare key she had and pushed open the heavy oak door, only to be confronted with a rather puzzling detail: a few lamps were still lit.

 _Oh, come on!_ ”Uncle? You’re not here, are you?” she called out loud, advancing into the large, circular room which was almost chaotically filled with tables, office cabinets, various devices and whatnot. Several rows of neatly arranged bookshelves adorned the stone walls, it was quite the impressive collection. 

“Indeed, he’s not here.”

Amelia turned around brusquely, shoulders jerking as she flinched, only to discover Alin in a remote corner of the room, nearly concealed by a stack of instruments piled up on a table. He was half-lying onto an iron-framed bed with nothing more than a bare mattress and a rough pillow, propped against the headboard and reading a book. She noticed that his wrists had silver shackles linked to the bed frame with thick chains, atop of some bandages which were probably intended to keep the silver from burning his skin. 

‘Wow, and so everything went to shit…’ she thought, momentarily dumbstruck by the sheer cruelty of fate. Suddenly, she also felt horribly self-conscious – of her gray, oversized cotton t-shirt falling over the baggy sweatpants, of the badly worn sneakers, of her still damp and unkempt shoulder-length caramel hair, barely held back on one side by a childish, star-shaped hairclip which, just like the rest of her attire, was ‘not for show’.

“So… what are you doing here?”

A question very well worth asking.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

Alin put the book down in his lap with a soft sigh, but there was no irony in his tone. There was _nothing_ actually, as per usual he carefully concealed whatever emotion, whatever impression, whatever thought he might have harbored, allowing none of it to surface into his expression. 

Amelia padded over to where the bed was and dropped limply on the small stool placed next to it, with a defeated air. 

“Well, I guess… that at least now we can speak openly. Now that everything’s in the open…” she said with a helpless, awkward shrug.

“What is?”

“Well, I mean, that you’re… and now that you also must have figured out who _I_ am.”

The vampire blinked lazily and leaned back on the pillow, making himself as comfortable as the circumstances allowed. “I’ve always known who you are, Amelia Jones,” he said calmly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You can’t hide anything from _me_.” His lips twitched briefly at the last sentence, holding back a smile.

She nodded slowly, chewing absently on her bottom lip. “You know, I called Mr. Borisov yesterday. He said ‘sure, let’s talk about it, I could use an extra help. Go on a date with me’.”

“So then… you’re after Mr. Borisov.” Alin’s black-nailed fingers tapped lightly onto the pages of the open book as he watched her intently, curious. “Do you think he’s exciting?”

Amelia shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe, after all no one’s really seen him around. Is he a vampire too?”

“Would you be so determined to go after him if he was?” The Romanian tilted his head a bit, in assessment. “Is everything a challenge for you, Amelia Jones?” 

‘How very American…’ she expected him to say in conclusion (because she had heard that phrase uttered in mockery by other exchange students so many times that she’d gotten accustomed to see it coming), but he didn’t. As a fleeting thought, it would have stung to hear it from him as well, even though he couldn’t have possibly had a good opinion on her in principle, given _who_ she was and _what_ he was. But then again - Amelia reminded herself – it had no importance what this little dead boy thought of her, she wasn’t trying to impress him, just study him and gather information. So then, what was up with the mysterious Mr. Borisov? Was Vasile protecting him by any chance?

“Yes, actually. I happen to believe in what I do.”

“I bet,” Alin said. “You’re trying hard too, to pull off the cool act with all this Van Helsing crap,” he added waving his hand in the general direction of the laboratory. “Don’t think I don’t know _why_ you’re doing it, I’ve read plenty of romantic novels - you’re the classic case of nice, honest but unsophisticated girl who gets swayed by a bunch of weirdoes. You know, your friends the Kirklands, your uncle, the Council… and now even _the mysterious_ Mr. Borisov!” He said those last words with a clear hint of amusement. “By the way, I think he’s married.”

“So you think I’m stupid.”

“No. I don’t think you are stupid, you are just… trying so hard to fit in. Make yourself accepted. It’s kind of sad though, that you’ve spent all your life believing that all these creeps are better than you.”

The blonde shook her head, snorting. “See, I knew you’d do that,” she replied with a smile, wriggling her index finger in Alin’s direction. “I knew you’d pull this patronizing act with me, since you can read minds and all that shit! You think you have me all figured out, that I’m just some plain Mary-Sue, incapable of surprises, ‘unsophisticated’ you say. But now, what if I was to prove you wrong, Alin Vasile? Would you be terribly disappointed?”

The vampire picked up his book and stared petulantly at the pages, signaling that the conversation was over. “Please don’t date Mr. Borisov, it’s revolting,” he said in conclusion, with a grimace.

Amelia stood from the stool and walked to the bookshelves, turning her back on the Romanian and proceeding to pick up some volumes. “No? Then who should I date, you?” she asked with a smirk he could not see. Since it looked like he wanted to play, she was more than pleased to oblige.

“I don’t know, wouldn’t that be unethical or something?”

“Yeah.” She stuffed the books in her messenger bag and headed for the door. “See you back at the shop if you make it out of here alive, I’m probably getting the job.”

* * *

 

Dr. Jones returned to the laboratory a little after midnight, finding the door locked just as he’d left it and the rest of his possessions apparently as equally undisturbed.

“It’s a pity you couldn’t come here during the day, as usual. Have you had any trouble with taking the night off? People know I work late and I would hate it if anyone decided to pop in.”

“You could just lock the door,” Alin observed dryly, closing the book with a loud snap and laying it aside on the mattress.

The doctor walked up and sat on the same stool Amelia had left earlier and adjusted his spectacles, then began to inspect the chains linking the boy’s shackles to the bed frame, just to make sure he had no means of escaping.

“What’s the matter? Are you in a bad mood, Alin?”

“No.”

“Oh. I thought I sensed a change of vibe around here…  Look, if you’re good tonight I’ll give you two bags when we’re done, okay? And as I’ve said before, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. You could always… just give up on human blood.”

The doctor reached out and stroked the boy’s sheet-white cheek with the back of his fingers, ever so gently, before his hand trailed down his shoulder and chest, then all the way down to his belt.

“Y-You know I can’t just give up-…” Jones drew closer, now cupping Alin’s cheek with his hand as he leaned in to nuzzle the coppery-and-gold-tinged strands. “And I was thinking t-that maybe… tonight… y-you wouldn’t-…”

“Now, now, my dear boy, as much as I enjoy our little sessions, I really, _really_ can’t trust you to behave.” Saying that, he used his free hand to thrust a small silver stiletto into the vampire’s stomach.

 

**_To be continued_ **


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

A/N – Hello my dear readers! I must confess that lately I’ve been really struggling with my muses and their annoying habit of leaving me on the dry whenever I have some free time, only to bless me when there are far more important things to do, like at work for example. Anyway, now that I squeezed a few drops of inspiration from them, it’s time for a new chap of this creepy little tale. Enjoy!

Warning: the one and only Tsvetan Borisov shows up (a.k.a Bulgaria or Bubu and why is he a warning in the first place? Well, because… I mean… you’ll see)

* * *

 

The sun was long up in the sky and some stray rays poured even inside the doctor’s gloom laboratory through the tall, barred windows, illuminating random squares on the checkered floor, but the bed where the vampire boy still slept was tucked safely in a dark corner, away from the light. Dr. Jones had been working at his desk for the past hour, but now stopped, just in time to notice his prey beginning to stir at last. Watching a vampire ‘wake up’ was still an equally fascinating and disturbing sight, after all his years of field work – it was so… unnatural to see their bodies begin to move as if pulled by unseen strings, after having laid cold and without a single drop of life inside that marble-like flesh.

“It’s about ten thirty, in case you were wondering,” he spoke out loud at the stirring form and Alin let out a groan, sitting up and burying his face in his hands as the creased and stained sheets fell down from his bare torso. “Not like I could wake you while it was still dark,” Jones added in his beard, resuming his work.

“You know… you could just kill me, it would be easier,” the vampire muttered, reaching for his discarded clothing. They were a mess, but so was he to begin with.

“I have no intention to kill you.”

“Then why am I feeling worse and worse every single time? It’s taking longer to recover…”

“Because you are weak, not feeding enough.” The doctor paused, taking off his glasses. “Do you even drink any blood aside from what I give you? Animal blood, of course… Anyway, like I said, I’ve got two bags for you in the fridge, you might want to get some breakfast before you leave.”

Barely avoiding the light spots in the room, Alin stumbled to the small refrigerator, opened the door and peered inside pensively, as if he’d forgotten what he was looking for.   

“If you were alive, you wouldn’t be here, would you?” the doctor mused.

Alin pulled a blood bag out at last and padded back to the bed, where he plopped down with a sigh. “No… I mean you do have a better bed than this, don’t you? Not to mention, I do hope you don’t bring your dates in here.”

The ruby eyes fixed the doctor unreadable, just like the boy’s voice was void of any trace of the expected irony or even bitterness.  It wasn’t a vampire trait, this, though - even having shed most of their humanity, children of the night displayed emotions, if anything in a more unrestrained manner than they’d done in life. Alin must have had been an intelligent but weird kid when he’d been alive too, all this apparently empty façade looked much too practiced to be new. 

“Of course. I don’t date than many people, but when I do I strive to make things pleasant for them. And I take them upstairs to my bedroom. My _dates_ though.” Jones leaned back in his seat. “But you’re avoiding my question.”

“You’re asking if I would have a… meaningless, very creepy and potentially even violent affair with you if I were deriving no benefit from it and I didn’t heal as fast and as fully as I do?”

“No, because if you were alive, I would actually like to date you. But would _you_ date me?”

“It’s a pointless question, there wouldn’t be anything special about me if I was alive and hence I wouldn’t pique your interest. There _wasn’t_ anything special about me when I was alive – I was much skinnier, with no muscle at all, my face was nowhere near this clean and both my hair and my eyes were a dull shade of brown.”

“You speak as if before this you had nothing and now all you have is your looks. Kind of sad.”

Alin watched him intently for a moment, then his gaze narrowed slightly. “Here it comes,” he said.

“What?”

“Something which isn’t part of the deal.” The boy stood up and tossed the now empty bag into the trash bin. “You give me blood, I let you fuck me. Bugging me with lectures is off limits, though.”

The doctor shrugged, snorting. “Can’t help it, I’m an old fart and you’re a young boy. Besides, you haven’t been dead for so long, so you might actually need a lecture from time to time.”

The vampire rolled his eyes. “So… why do you still keep the Zwingli siblings?” he asked out of the blue.”Are you lecturing them too? Telling them it wasn’t nice to kill _so many_ people in the past two hundred years?”

Jones blinked, taken by surprise. He knew that Alin had found out about and even spoken to his two captives (had even been worried that he might have tried to help them), but had never imagined that the subject would ever come up so openly. 

“The details don’t concern you, but I’m studying them. Why else do you think I’d be keeping them alive?” 

“Actually, it does sort of concern me,” Alin stated, walking again to the fridge and proceeding to collect the remaining blood bag. “Vampires are very territorial creatures, so if they were to escape your confinement, they would come after me to finish me off… of course after massacring everyone else in this building. And I really wouldn’t want to deal with that, seeing how there’s two of them.”

He frowned at the doctor’s desk, but the older man had resumed his work and was currently ignoring him. The vampire rolled his eyes again and marched to the door without another word.

“Hope you get home safely with all this sun outside,” Dr. Jones muttered in his beard, continuing to write. “See you again on Friday if you want.”

He was rewarded with a dry, dispassionate door slam.

* * *

 

Amelia sat down at one of the small sidewalk café tables, cringing as the coldness of the bare iron wrought chair seeped into her skin through her jeans. It was way too chilly outside for this kind of ‘breakfast date’, but at least there was plenty of sun and if there was any place to meet Mr. Borisov, this was it.

‘Oh… what the hell am I doing here?’ she wondered fleetingly, clutching the messenger bag in her lap with chilled fingers as she surveyed the empty street. Yet the mysterious Bulgarian had picked up the meeting place himself – possibly the cheapest café in town – and had proven full of unexpected benevolence (‘Put everything on my tab if you get there before me’). 

A shabby waiter appeared eventually, the blonde ordered a simple black coffee and just as she was staring questioningly at the dubious cup and the even more dubious oily sheen visible on the surface of the dark brown liquid, Mr. Borisov finally made his entrance.

“Miss Jones? I am Tsvetan Borisov. I am deeply sorry for being tardy, I hope you did not wait long?”

Amelia looked up startled at the man who had appeared so brusquely, nearly flinching in her seat. The Bulgarian was - if anything - strikingly plain looking and there was _absolutely nothing_ mysterious (or exciting….) about his grey suit and non-descript tie, or about the fact that he was carrying the ugliest brown briefcase in the fucking history of ugly brown briefcases. Otherwise he was still young, somewhere in his mid-thirties probably, and his pale complexion framed by raven-black hair and his light green eyes wouldn’t have been exactly an eyesore in a different context.

Emphasis on ‘different context’.   

“Oh, it’s great to meet you, Mr. Borisov,” she chirped quickly, rather nervous. “Uh… thanks for agreeing to meet me… I guess.” _And I really hope this isn’t a_ date _, because it would surely be the creepiest one yet…_

“No problem,” said Borisov, offering a small, cramped smile. “I’m not in a hurry today.” He motioned for the waiter.

“O-Okay… so, over the phone you mentioned that you might have an opening? Uh, at the bookstore?”

The brunet nodded. “Da. I mean, yes. But first, Miss Jones, I must explain a few things. You see, my business is very, very special.”

_Yeah, I know. You sell dick-shaped aromatic lamps._

Clearly, Amelia thought, Mr. Borisov lacked his subordinate’s ability to read minds, because his good-humored expression didn’t change at her inward remark. The sun hadn’t turned him to ash either, so he wasn’t a vampire (not meaning that he was fully human though…) but he was definitely weird.

“It’s economically challenging to run the type of business which addresses the needs of a limited number of esoteric enthusiasts, I’m sure you understand. But then again, magic in its lower, more vulgar manifestations has always been an attraction for the larger public, therefore in order to tend to the enlightened we must please the profane. Yes?” 

Amelia blinked, suddenly wondering whether this wasn’t somewhat more than she’d bargained for. Did Mr. Borisov really believe in the magic proprieties of the crappy stuff he sold in his store?! Geez. To think she’d actually pegged him for a practical business man… If so, what did this mean? Was he potentially dangerous in some way? Technically, the _Artifact_ was a magical object, so magic per say wasn’t something to be dismissed by default. So maybe this whole thing presented opportunity beyond her little project and she could obtain useful information for the Council if something was really going on.

“So, I’m afraid that the boys, as it is, are not very entertaining, especially Lukas,” the Bulgarian went on, pausing briefly when the waiter brought him a steaming cup of coffee as well. “You see, there was an incident a while ago that made him really reluctant to anything eccentric.”

“Yeah?” the blonde asked, and her voice sounded fake even to her. Mr. Borisov was watching her as he took a sip of his coffee and again there was that dreadful feeling that her cover had been blown.    

He nodded. “Yes, some people decided to bully him on the grounds that he was weird or something. Thank God that they had nothing with the store itself, but he was frightened and wouldn’t leave the house for a week afterwards. “

Amelia breathed in relief. “Oh… I thought you were going to say that he was bullied for working at your store. That would have been… concerning. I mean, not that it’s not terrible anyway.”

“So, how about wearing a fitting costume then?”

* * *

 

At about six that very evening, as agreed, Amelia went _to Borisov’s Magic Books &Gifts Shop _and found Lukas Bondevik still at the front desk, which – she decided – was both good and bad. Good because she could take Alin by surprise when he arrived (since he’d seemed skeptical about the whole thing), but bad because if he wasn’t there yet… what if something had happened to him? She’d had an ominous feeling upon seeing him in the laboratory the night before, like something bad was about to unfold.

“Uh… hey. I’m Amelia. Amelia Jones. I don’t know if Mr. Borisov let you guys know yet, but, uh… I’ll be working here as well, starting today.”

For some reason the blonde was feeling rather nervous, her usual exuberance gone, the place was looking gloomier than usual and the dull once-over the pale Norwegian graced her with didn’t exactly help either.

“Yes, he left some instructions and told me to show you around,” Lukas confirmed, slipping off his chair soundlessly. “He also told me to give you this.” He held up something pink and papery.

A Victoria’s Secret bag.

**_To be continued_ **


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

A/N – Hello everyone! I know it took a little while to update this – some down time from all points of view – but now I’m back with more of this scary little tale. For now, enough agonizing on the introduction and let’s get it on with the chap. Enjoy ;)

* * *

 

Peeking from behind the cracked door of the backroom as Alin walked into the shop and dropped his messenger bag on the counter with a bored gesture, Amelia was feeling almost at ease in the new _outfit_. One brief look in the mirror earlier – it was sort of disturbing to look at it for more than briefly – had assured her of getting the indicated effect and now… heh, the little vampire was in for one hell of a surprise! 

 _‘Damn, it does look like I’m trying to compete with all the freaks around’_ the American thought fleetingly, aware of her own childish enthusiasm at the prospect of attempting to scare the hell out of someone. Brought back some cherished old memories too. 

The strawberry blond sat down slowly on the chair, with an almost audible sigh, and proceeded to bury his face in his hands. Amelia checked her watch - it was only seven in the evening – maybe too early for the little vampire to be up and about? Silently, even though he could probably hear her anyway, she crept past the door and along the back shelves, her sneakers light against the wooden floor. Oh… she _was_ fit for this job!

“Hey there! See, I told you I’d get the jo-“

Amelia’s little speech was cut short, as upon laying eyes on the dreadful apparition the Romanian instantly flew from his seat and tumbled gracelessly on the floor with a choked squeak, knocking over his chair in the process. He remained crouched on the floor like a rabbit in the headlights, eyes impossibly wide and lips slightly parted, as if struggling to catch his breath.

“ _WHAT THE FUCK_?!” he croaked.

“Oh come on, dude, you didn’t really get scared, did you?!” Amelia questioned from behind the shark-toothed mask attached over her mouth and which covered the lower half of her face almost entirely. “You must have known I was here, right? Vampires have sharp senses, don’t they?”

Alin continued to stare and frown, blinking slowly, as if he was still having a hard time believing what he was seeing. His ruby-colored eyes swept again over the black, smudged kohl she had made a mess of around the eyes, the stark white powder badly blended, that awful ‘mouth’ and then all the way down over the oversized, frilly nightgown she’d pulled over her regular t-shirt and jeans (that was okay, right?). 

“Of course I knew that you were here. That’s why I was expecting to see you, not _this creature_!” he replied sharply, still scowling as he pointed a finger at her, childlike.

“So, did you seriously get scared?! Huh. And here I thought vampires could not get scared….”

 _And that your mask could not be broken._ Of course, it had not escaped Amelia that it was for the first time that he was actually showing some kind of emotion that was genuine enough to be called so, the first time his finely crafted smugness was absent, replaced by unexpected vulnerability. It was rather endearing, if she was completely honest, the thought that some bits of the weak, former human self were still left inside him, shrouded by darkness as they must have been, but still there, very much present. 

“So you did it on purpose. It was an experiment…” Alin concluded dryly.

With a huff, he collected himself from the floor, clinging to the desk for support. Amelia noticed that he looked worse than usual, the shadows around his eyes almost black and his cheeks slightly hollow. Must have had a rough day, the blonde thought, whatever that meant.

“No, I didn’t, I didn’t even think it was possible, pffft…  Just following instructions, you know, Mr. Borisov left me all this makeup and… uh… _props_ in a Victoria’s Secret bag no less. And besides, if even you got scared, it means I’m doing it right, no?”

 _Oh yeah, I forgot you were_ dating _him now…_

Alin’s scowl finally melted into a somewhat amused expression and the corners of his mouth curled upwards, just a bit short of forming a smile. But seriously, the Bulgarian must have had a sense of humor after all, because aside from the props the flashy pink bag contained the ugliest nightgown _in the fucking history_ of ugly nightgowns… The irony. 

“You look absolutely dreadful,” the vampire stated eventually, mouth pursing and gaze dulling in blunt disapproval.

Amelia pouted. _What a sore loser!_ “But I’m supposed to look creepy!”

“You don’t look creepy, you just look like you fell face-first into a trash can. Come with me in the back, we’ll have you fixed…”

“No thanks, I look just fine,” the American replied, taking a step back instinctively. “You’re just pissed because I scared you-“

But Alin ignored her, moving swiftly and taking the blonde’s hand with a slight tug, his hold gentle and the side of his thumb pressing lightly onto the pulse point of her wrist. Amelia could still feel a pleasant sort of shudder down her spine as she was seated down on the small stool facing the crappy mirror in the back room and the vampire leaned over her with a critical eye, hands on his hips.   

“You made a mess out of everything,” he grumbled, turning to dig into a small bag of toiletries and extracting a make-up removal pad which he soaked in a bit of water from the sink. “And what the fuck is this shit?! Just dreadful!” His fingers worked quickly to remove the half-mask from over her mouth and tossed it aside, gaze lingering on her lips a moment too long before he started working on her face.   

Amelia fell silent, momentarily at a loss for words, following his movements and trying to recapture that snowflake feel of his fingers on her skin. To no avail though, aside from that brief hold on her wrist Alin was avoiding to touch her, probably self-conscious of the deathly chill of his own hands. And it was rather strange because vampires were well known for widely employing their exquisite seduction skills, yet this boy, despite having his good moments of silver-tongued-ness, was (she realized) essentially awkward around people.    

Alin’s long bangs hung loose, nearly touching Amelia’s forehead as he was leaning over her, retouching the make-up with expert moves, he was much too close now and she cursed the increasing nervousness at this thought, cursed this innate inclination to let herself affected by even the most insignificant, meaningless details. _Look at you, if he were to lean in and kiss you now, you’d let him, you stupid girl_ , the American thought with chagrin. This was a lesson of life, no doubt, she was weak, with no inner strength whatsoever! He was only doing this because he was good with the brushes and stuff, but he’d probably done Lukas’s makeup too on occasion…    

“There, I think it’s better now, no?”

The vampire moved aside so that she could see herself in the mirror fully – not that he had any reflection himself, obviously, so all Amelia could see was herself alone against the peeling wall, sitting perched awkwardly on the unstable stool under the single, flickering bulb. But there was indeed a significant improvement in the way she looked – the white powder was now applied in a thinner, even layer over her face and neck and the black kohl around her eyes had been delicately smudged and blended with the rest, such that it created a sort of _natural_ shadow. Her face now had a sinister yet undeniable sort of beauty about it.   

“Yeah…” she nodded, sighing softly. “Now I no longer look like I’ve fallen face-first into a trash can, I just look like I died.” The blonde paused, looking up at him. “And not only did I die, but it happened while wearing the ugliest nightgown in the fucking world, no less. Hah!” 

Alin snorted, amused, throwing a quick glance at the Victoria’s Secret bag. “Oh come on, you’re being ungrateful,” he said, briefly passing his fingers over the oversized cascade of frills at the neck,” Mr. Borisov brought you the nightgown his great-great-great-grandmother must have worn on her wedding night, fufufu!” 

The blonde faked a gasp. “That, right there, was an innuendo?”

Alin smiled widely now. “In this context, really no.”

“So… aren’t you curious about how my ‘date’ went?”

He shrugged, still smiling a bit. “I think I know how your ‘date’ went, since you’re here and all.”

“You have no idea,” Amelia stated, wiggling her finger dramatically.”You see, Mr. Borisov entrusted me with a great secret…” She stood slowly, facing the vampire at nose level. “He said that it’s difficult to run a business which sees to the needs of a… what was that? Ah yes. _A_ _limited number of esoteric enthusiasts_. So in order to tend to the _enlightened_ we must please the profane people with the more vulgar manifestations of magic!” She nearly had a mind to mention that the owner had also expressed the opinion that he and Lukas weren’t very entertaining, but that was probably pushing it a bit too far.

The strawberry blond nodded slowly, a crooked smile lingering on the corner of his mouth. “Wow… that’s some thing to say to a girl on the first date. It would have never occurred to me, to be honest.”

Amelia opened her mouth to deliver a smart reply but the words died on her lips when she saw the vampire change face suddenly and slump back against the wall, hand clutching his stomach. His eyelids fluttered closed for a brief second and he looked like he was struggling to draw a breath.

“Hey! Are you okay?!”

The blonde raised one hand instinctively and pressed it flat against his cheek, while the other gripped his shoulder to try and support him. Ice cold seeped into her palm, making her gasp lightly even as Alin flinched and looked up at her brusquely, in utter surprise. Amelia saw the black core of his ruby orbs widening and a sense of immediate, inescapable danger swept over her. But it was too late. She was without her guns, without any weapon and completely without any means of overpowering or escaping him.   

“Your warmth… is too much…” Alin whispered weakly, looking even more like he was about to pass out. “I’m afraid I need to-…”

He stood and straightened painfully slowly, every move adding to the girl’s growing dread until it became suffocating, only for him to push past the blonde and vanish without a word, as if into thin air. Amelia simply dropped limply back onto the stool, dumbstruck and feeling as if all of her vital force had been drained from her body.   

**_To be continued_ **

A/N – I know, a short and shitty little chap, but guess what! I have decided to make a little poll for this fic, since I don’t have the chapters planned yet aside from a very general thread of plot (is that even the English for it? I don’t know…)

So here’s the poll, yes or no to a very simple question: do you think Amelia and Alin should or shouldn’t end up together?

Please, don’t take this as a spoiler, irrespective of the poll result I (the mighty creator of this fantastic crap) will make it impossible for you to guess the finale.

Fufufu!

So… V.O.T.E. 


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

A/N – Hello my dear readers!  As usual, I’ve been wanting to update this earlier, but things didn’t go as planned (for those of you who know what I’m talking about – DAMN this Yuri!!! On Ice thing, it’s giving me stomach aches by now, I’m not taking pressure too well, not even when it’s someone else performing...) Anyway, without any further complaints or excuses from me, here’s today’s update, enjoy!!

_Lili Zwingli – Liechtenstein_

_Vash Zwingli - Switzerland_

* * *

 

“Amelia, have you ever been bitten?”

The blonde was currently toweling her hair dry and paused her movements, the question making her shiver in the thin track outfit she’d thrown on after showering. She turned to look at her uncle, wondering if she’d misheard the words spoken in such a stern, serious tone.

“Wha-… Of course not! Have you ever been?”

Dr. Jones adjusted his glasses and crossed his arms. “Yes. Why do you think I chose to do this job in the first place? Have I not told you about that night when my friends died, thirty years ago? But later on, I realized that it was useful. “The doctor took a step forward, seemingly sizing her up. “Being bitten. Knowing what it’s like makes you let go of the fear. Most hunters are unreasonably afraid of pain.”

Amelia blinked. “Huh… Aren’t they _reasonably_ afraid of death, though?” What the hell was her uncle saying?

“Fear is a problem no matter how you look at it. If you seriously want to become a hunter and work with me, I can’t have you crapping out at the worst of times. Do you understand?”

“I won’t crap out! If this is that old talk about how I’m a girl and shit-…” the blonde retorted sharply, clenching her fists.  

The doctor’s features softened a bit and he smiled lightly. “Very well. Come with me.”

Back to his laboratory, Amelia saw that the lights were dimmed and curtains drawn and eventually she spotted Alin perched casually on one of the metal tables, legs dangling over the edge. She panicked instantly, remembering the night when she’d found him shackled to the bed – was her uncle planning to do something to him?! Hurt him?! Was she supposed to watch some gruesome experiment, as a test?! No, no, the vampire wouldn’t have been so calm if he had some shit coming, considering he could read minds and all.

“Amelia, this is Alin,” Dr. Jones said.

“I-I know, I’ve seen him at school,” she said quickly, gulping. Or maybe her uncle had found out about her little project, working for Borisov and all? Damn, _that_ would have sucked big time!

The doctor went on to say more, something about the regular testing procedure, council, the Artifact, human blood, punishment, something else, she couldn’t follow, only catch random words as she stared at the boy, at the bronze reflexes of his hair against the light, at the curious expression of his porcelain-pale face.

“….controlled procedure,” her uncle said finally.

“What?”

“Unless you’re afraid and there’s no point in-“

“I’m not afraid!” Amelia snapped. “I’m not afraid of anything!” She pushed past the doctor and walked up to the table, stopping in front of the vampire, looking him straight in the eye. “I’m not afraid of you, do you hear?!”

Alin remained unfazed and silent, only poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. He looked bored, eventually throwing a glance to the doctor as if saying ‘do we really have to do this?’ and sighing when he received a curt nod in reply. He slid off his perch with what at first seemed like a lazy motion, but in the next moment Amelia realized that they’d switched places and she didn’t even know when she’d been lifted up on the table.

“Well, come on!” she prompted over increasing nervousness. “What’s the hold up?”

Alin turned suddenly and scowled at Dr. Jones. “You’re trolling me!”

Dr. Jones only muttered something about how he wasn’t getting any privacy this time and how he should have been happy with the little he was getting instead of making a fuss. Maybe he was uncomfortable about this? Maybe she’d been a bit rude, upon getting worked up before?

“Hey…” the blonde said softly, reaching up to place her open palm against the side of his face. “Come here… You like my warmth, don’t you?” Her thumb swept gently over the smooth cheekbone. “It’s okay, I want this. Please…” Her other hand trailed up from the vampire’s shoulder to the back of his neck as he finally leaned forward, propping his hands on the edge of the table, on each side of her. Amelia’s eyelids fell shut when she felt the cold tip of his nose brushing briefly against her chin and into the crook of her neck.

“Just do it-“

_Just do… what?_

Suddenly Amelia was wide awake, surrounded by the peaceful darkness of her bedroom, sitting up between the tangled sheets. She also realized that she was quite drenched in sweat, all hot and bothered. What the hell?!

* * *

 

Alin halted his steps in the middle of the hallway and blinked, taking a deep, unnecessary breath as his eyes widened the slightest bit. His lips curled a bit too, but unable to muster more than the shadow of a smile.

“As if… _that_ were possible,” he whispered softly, hands fisting briefly at his sides before he adjusted the strap of his messenger bag and made use of the key previously provided by Dr. Jones. 

The old library had bricked-in windows and as a result had the appearance of a gloomy cavern or dungeon of sorts, the air stale and filled with the smoke of the few candles burning on coffee tables and something else… _their_ scent. Humans couldn’t feel it, otherwise these monsters would have never been able to blend into their midst as inconspicuously as they had, but to Alin’s nose it was a horror-filled reminder of his _maker_ – a scent of mold, old rotten blood, earth and decay, the odor pertaining by excellence to _something_ which has just crawled out of a tomb. It wasn’t that the Zwingli children were dirty, or as little as unkempt (in fact their clothing couldn’t have been more pristine and luxurious, despite their current unfortunate circumstances), but it was rather the flavor of their own murderous, hellish essence, which was evident to anyone aside from their poor, unsuspecting human prey.

“And what are _you_ doing here?” a sharp voice questioned as soon as the Romanian had taken not two steps into the room, carefully closing the door in his wake.

Of course, the siblings were angry – their situation must have been every bit as humiliating as it was unprecedented – and Alin would have gladly avoided them if he hadn’t been in need of research material to figure out why his (very much dead actually…) body had developed this annoying habit of giving up on him at the ‘best’ of times. Of course, they despised him, taking it – like their entire killer sort - as a sign of weakness that he hadn’t taken anyone’s life yet, even if in this day and age many vampires considered it a bad idea to leave behind a trail of corpses and attract unwanted attention. However, Vash and Lili Zwingli had been born a couple of centuries back and refused to adapt to what they considered the demeaning  this-day-and-age-standards.

“You really don’t like me, do you?” the strawberry blond asked rhetorically, not really paying any attention to the boy perched up onto a table corner in a cheeky pose.

Vash Zwingli had the appearance of a thin, delicate youth in his late teens, while Lili looked barely twelve, tiny and gracious like a fairy princess. They both had golden-blonde hair cropped messily at chin length in very much the same fashion, giving the brother and sister a playful air of childish complicity, but to Alin this blatant, intended similarity was just creepy.  

“No, we really don’t,” Vash replied, crossing his arms. “I believe you would have been a terrible disappointment to that great ancestor of yours – the Impaler. We would have liked _him_ , barbarian as he was, but at least he understood what this is about. And he would have had enough sense to help us!” 

“Right, well, I’m not so sure how much he would have appreciated a bunch of sniveling brats like you and most likely the only thing you would have obtained from him would have been a spike up your ass if you had bugged him bad enough,” the Romanian replied, dumping his messenger bag at the foot of the enormous bookcase and staring up at the shelves.

He didn’t need to actually look at the boy to know that Vash’s mouth was hanging open, face livid with barely contained rage.

“How dare-”

“Oh, please,” Alin replied dryly, “I may not have killed anyone, but _never_ underestimate my ability to insult the hell out of you.”

Silence fell for a few moments and Alin focused on the books on display, picking a few titles which looked useful at a first glance. He stuffed them in the bag rapidly, eager to leave the library as soon as possible. Not that the shit hadn’t already been stirred, it had been the very moment the siblings had laid eyes on him for the first time, but keeping contact to a minimum sounded like a good idea right now.

“Alin, wait…” The Romanian nearly flinched upon feeling Lili’s tiny hand on his forearm and he barely resisted the impulse to shake off the unwanted touch. “I think we need to talk.”

“Actually, we really don’t-”

“Look at you, burying yourself in useless books, looking for answers you can’t get. I know what is wrong – you’re all alone. How long do you think you’ll last on your own? And even if you do, this loneliness won’t go away, you need a soulmate by your side.” The petite blonde looked up at him, large green eyes shining and puppet rosy lips slightly parted in anticipation.” Don’t you see? _I_ can be your soulmate. _We_ can be your family!”  

“You’re not my family,” the Romanian stated sternly, yanking his arm free and taking a step back. He scowled, clutching the messenger bag to his chest. “Do you genuinely think I was born yesterday and I don’t know what you’re about? You have a lot of nerve to say such a crap to me.”

Alin turned to leave and headed for the door, but Lili was faster and blocked his way. “Wait!”

“It’s no use, Lili,” her brother said, “This weakling probably thinks he’s _better_ than us… Moreover, he thinks he won’t be getting what’s coming to him when we’re out of here… He thinks we won’t bleed him dry and scatter his bones in the middle of the road.”

The strawberry blond whipped his head around and offered the boy a wicked smile, nodding slowly. “There, there, the truth has been spoken. Thank you for stating your true intentions openly… although it’s still to be seen whose bones will be lying scattered in the middle of the road.”

“No! It’s not like that!” Lili cried. “I really want to-…“ Suddenly her face changed, delicate, doll-like features twisting into a vicious expression. “This is because of that bitch, isn’t it?! We heard, you know!”

“We listened, yes,” Vash confirmed.

“We heard and we know! We know that she’s been throwing herself at you, that repulsive _human_ girl!” she spat. “How dares she, that…. that easy woman, act as if she was anything _like us_!!!”  

Alin snorted. “Well, no one is quite like you, that’s for sure. After all, _you_ still wear a corset and think women shouldn’t vote,” he pointed. “And God knows what other shit…”

“Alin! We will tell Dr. Jones that there’s something between you and his niece!”  

“Fine. Tell Dr. Jones,” he said and walked past the little girl, determined to put an end to the conversation once and for all.

**_To be continued_ **

A/N – With regards to our little poll, if you haven’t voted the last time or for some reason want to change your vote, you can still do it ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

A/N – Hello everyone! Since this is the first story I get to update in 2017, I want to wish you all an AMAZING NEW YEAR with lots of love, fun, progress, (reviews if you’re also an author ;))) and whatever else you wish to see fulfilled!!! I must confess that during the holidays I really felt like I should write something, given the days off, but no sir. Nope, my muses also went away and would absolutely not return until I was back to work and of course, I had other things to do and take care of.    

As it happens, I managed to get this updated sooner than I’d hoped, so here I am with a new chap! Oh, and I also wanted to say thank you guys for giving this story so much attention and support, it means a lot to me! Enjoy ;)  

* * *

 

Amelia was still sitting upright in bed, staring blankly at the rainbow-colored wall clock which appeared several shades of dark-grey in the semi-obscurity of her small room. The heat of the weird dream had long passed, sweat cooling unpleasantly down the blonde’s back and making her shiver under the sheets gathered awkwardly around her body. She was cold, sticky, disappointed and mostly uncomprehending as to what the hell was going on exactly when… there was a sudden noise, like the rapping of someone’s fingernail against her bedroom window.   

Her head jerked instantly in that direction, eyes wide and breath hitching, feeling the old childhood fear creeping up from the depths of the subconscious where it’d laid buried for many years now.

 _Oh, come on now, there’s no monster in the closet, you know that_ , she thought. _Nope, it’s that little creep, who probably sent you that dream to begin with and now he’s come to assess whether you love him already, pffft…_

Amelia kicked the sheets off with a sigh, in the same time feeling oddly refreshed and at ease again, and stood from the bed, just in time to hear the rapping noise again and see a pale hand quickly disappear from view, seemingly melting in the icy-white reflexes of the glass.

“I’m really not going to invite you in,” she said out loud, lifting the window with a huff, even if there was no one visible outside.

“That’s okay, I don’t want to come in. Your room is a mess anyway and seeing how after all these years you’re still wondering whether or not there’s a monster in your closet…”

Alin showed up in front of her suddenly, as if taking form from the thin threads of nightly mist floating in moonlight, and she saw him crouched leisurely on the flat portion of roof spreading from under her window all the way to the front door. It was a nice place to sit, Alice would sit beside her for hours and babble about magic nonsense on cool summer nights, and sometimes they would smoke, thinking they looked badass. But now all that sense of _comfortable_ was gone.

“Is this extreme creepiness really necessary?” Amelia inquired, folding her arms.  

The vampire shrugged, pulling away a bit. “More like inherent, I’d say. But _you_ think it’s cool,” he observed smoothly, with the shadow of a smile. “In fact, I’m sure you’d do it too if you could.”

 _Ha, ha. Don’t you know me well… “_ So, why are you here?”

Amelia did notice however that he looked better than back at the store when he’d made such a hasty exit after giving her quite the fright. Back then, something had made him hungry, so much so that he was sick from deprivation, something which probably had to do with her uncle, something-

“Listen, Amelia…” Alin began, standing up and stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie – which the blonde took as a clear sign of discomfort. “I know that you go to the Fortress at night for… practice or something. Uh… I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”

“No?”

“No-… not the practice, but going there at night,” he explained. “I think it’s kind of dangerous right now, I think the siblings have their eyes on you and it’s best if you keep out of their reach. You’re safe here, since they can’t enter a private home uninvited, but over there… Maybe you could practice during the day or something, just saying.”

The American frowned openly, irritated by how increasingly confusing this whole thing was becoming. “What siblings?!”

Alin blinked rapidly a couple of times, lips parting slightly as if he’d let out a surprised breath and his body stirred backwards almost imperceptibly, for some reason feeling even more awkward.

_You don’t know._

“What don’t I know?! What are you talking about?” Amelia demanded on the edge of anger.

The vampire lowered himself slowly into his previous position so that his face was below hers once more, with an air of defeat, crossing his legs childishly. He was fidgeting, looking for his words again, eloquence lost, he was probably thinking that coming here to see her, talk to her, it had all been a mistake, something he didn’t usually do and her stomach cringed at the thought. It felt too much like rejection.     

“You know that your uncle traveled to Switzerland a while ago?” he began, still pretty much uncertain.

Amelia nodded. “Yeah, he was there for almost four months and came back with a shitload of books. What of it?” she asked impatient.

“Well, he also came back with two coffins, but I suppose he failed to mention _that_ to you…” Alin paused and scratched his head, still struggling with phrasing. “While he was there he captured two vampire children, the Zwingli siblings. Not _children_ per say, they just look like children, but they’re more than two hundred years old and I know for a fact that they’ve killed a lot of people in the course of their ungodly existence. Your uncle keeps them locked up in the old library, the one that was supposedly bricked in by the previous owner of the Fortress. But of course, why would you believe any of this? We don’t even know each other so well…”

The blonde rolled her eyes, mouth pursing. “If we don’t know each other so well - which right you are, we don’t actually –why did you come here to warn me?”

 _If you don’t care about me at all_ , she thought, and was instantly surprised by the implications. Evidently, it would have been a very, very stupid thing to ask, he didn’t, couldn’t have cared about her, so maybe he was hiding something which required her being away from the Fortress at night? Perhaps something to do with her uncle and his seemingly never-ending list of secrets… Because Amelia had no doubt, now that the vampire had told her this, that there must have been at least some truth in what he was saying. After all, it wasn’t like this piece of information was unverifiable, she could go and see for herself whether there actually was someone locked up in the old library or not.   

“You’re shivering,” Alin observed, pointing to her thin pajama top. “Either go back inside or put something on, or you’ll catch a cold.”

“Nah. The moment I turn my back you’ll be gone,” the American said. “You don’t want to answer any uncomfortable questions I might be asking next, I bet.”

 _Well it’s not like you can keep me locked in place with your gaze_ , she heard the vampire’s voice in her mind, _or with anything else for that matter._

“Oh, and I also bet you think this is very cool too,” Amelia added, turning into the room and digging up a fleece jacket from the dresser. “Saying stuff inside my mind instead of actually bothering to open your mouth. Pffffttt…”

She put it on and pulled up the zipper up to her neck, instantly relishing in the soft comfort of the fluffy fabric. Matching fluffy slippers in place, she ducked and climbed out of the window and onto the roof, where she sat down next to Alin, successfully invading his personal space just for the sake of seeing how much more uncomfortable this was going to make him. And it worked. The Romanian didn’t quite pull away but concentrated into himself in a manner that made her inadvertently think of a bat wrapped up protectively in his large wings.

“So why is he keeping them? If they’ve killed people then they should have been… you know.”

Alin bit his upper lip and sighed. “I don’t know, I cannot read Dr. Jones’s mind, he’s protected himself with a spell. After I felt their presence, I asked him, but he said he’s studying them and that was the end of it. He also assured me that their confinement is inescapable, but… it’s still something I’m worried about.“ He cleared his throat and shifted, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “I know that it sounds kind of bad to say you’d be relieved by someone’s death, but they’re already dead to begin with and they’ve been around for much more than they should have in the first place, so…”    

Spells, vampires kept locked up for some unknown reason… more and more proof that Dr. Jones wasn’t taking her seriously. No, he was purposely keeping her from learning more, from growing stronger, from becoming someone worthy of his hunter team. _Just because I’m a girl! Damn that old fart and his fucking medieval mindset!_ she thought, irritation making her chest constrict painfully.  

“It’s not like that,” the vampire said unexpectedly, looking away in a half-assed attempt to conceal the embarrassment at having read her mind so openly. “No one at the Fortress knows about them. The Council would clearly disapprove of this little project, whatever it is. But I think-….”

“What?”

“I think they promised him something, like… he’s looking for something and they can help him find it.”

Amelia pressed her lips into a tight line and inhaled sharply, making a move as if to stand. “And I think I’m quite done with this shit! You were right before, _I am_ trying too hard and for what?! To be made a fool of by a bunch of freaks, as you have again rightly pointed!”

“No, no, please! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

The blonde looked down to find Alin’s fingers gripping her arm, that unnatural coldness seeping in through her sleeve and freezing her skin. His eyes were wide, those surreal ruby orbs dark but still shining in moonlight, filled with the pleading look of someone who’d screwed up badly.   

“Then tell me, why do _they_ – whoever the fuck they are – have their eyes on me? How do they know about me and what could they possibly have against me? And how do _you_ know all this?!”

“I-It’s not that simp-“

“No?”

“Look, you must promise me that you won’t, uh, you won’t confront him about this! That you’ll never tell him that we’ve been… talking. And about your job at the store. And about anything. And if he asks you anything you’ll just say it’s not true!!”

 _Uh-oh… now he’s afraid that he’ll get into trouble. What do you know,_ Amelia thought, and a small, mischievous smile appeared on her lips without intent.

Alin sighed and removed his fingers from her arm. “I know because they talked to me. They asked me to help them escape and when I refused they said that I should be worried, because they will come after me eventually and bleed me dry. Because they _will_ escape and first thing they will deal with the doctor and his niece. See, they know about everyone in the Fortress and they keep searching for a way out. I told Dr. Jones, but he ignored me.”

“Okay… I get it.”

She wanted to say something else, possibly something more intelligent, but words slipped just out of her reach and instead the blonde just smiled, shrugging comfortably into her fleece. Fleetingly, she wondered if Alin would have liked a smoke right now. The moment of unexpected, weird bliss was gone in an instant though and the Romanian stood to leave, smoothing his clothes unnecessarily.

“Amelia, I know that you want to know more about me, but the truth is ugly,” he said without looking at her and leaped into darkness, disappearing from view.

**_To be continued_ **


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

A/N – Hello my dear readers! So, here we are, another month, another chapter and I want to give a big thanks to all of you guys who support and follow this little tale, it means a lot to me! That being said, without any further meaningless rants, here’s today’s update. Enjoy ;)

* * *

 

Of course, the vampire’s concerns were unfounded, Amelia had never had a mind to confront her uncle about what was going on. About anything, really, it was pointless. He’d just shrug her off gently, like he’d done ever since she was little, every time she was pushing too far. But this only added to her anger now, even as each and every shot the blonde fired hit the target with precision, each still an empty blow, doing nothing to alleviate frustration.

Still, Amelia would not believe that Dr. Jones was up to something illicit, even if earlier she’d slipped all the way down to the sealed library and had seen the magic confinement marks with the children’s names scribbled on the bricks all around the hole where the door was. Not even after she’d heard the whispering voices inside she would suspect her uncle of something foul, something he was deliberately hiding from the Council. After all, he’d dedicated his life to fighting evil and had something to show for it too, so there was no way he could have been doing it for… for his own interests?

‘ _…I think they promised him something’_

The blonde was interrupted from her musings as she felt a (by now) familiar vibe and turned her head to discover Alin leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a sour expression on his face. Amelia took her time observing him at length – the worn converses, skinny black jeans, the zipped up dark green hoodie contrasting so strikingly against the light accents of his hair, now pulled back in a ponytail, the long bangs hanging loosely over one side of his face. 

“I see,” he said dryly and turned to leave.

It was way after sundown by now, but it was a Saturday, the shop was closed over the weekend, so she could do whatever the hell she wanted with her evening. Unfortunately so did he, and for some unfathomable reason he’d just had to come _here_. Which was ridiculous, because unless he was coming in for the regular testing (and that was on weekdays) wouldn’t a vampire want to be as further away from the Fortress as possible?!

Amelia frowned, feeling a sudden bite of disappointment. _Disappointment?_ “Wait!” she shouted, making the boy halt in his steps. “Look, it’s not that I don’t believe you! I went downstairs and I saw… I saw them, I know they’re there, those kids!”

“You _don’t_ believe me. You don’t believe they’re a threat and you clearly don’t believe me when I say that they can and will eventually escape that half-assed confinement your uncle is keeping them in,” Alin replied in the same tone.

“It’s not that I don’t believe! But I’m not afraid! I’m not weak, damn it!”

The vampire turned around fully this time and tilted his head curiously, a somewhat bitter smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Amelia held his gaze determined, the hands which had now dropped the twin pistols clenching into fists at her sides. Just as she was saying those words, it did cross the American’s mind that her uncle’s effectiveness must have had to do with some cards up his sleeve entirely unrelated to his shooting skills, weaponry or physical abilities (but to his studies of black magic which he had kept to himself until now), but even so, she would not allow herself to be intimidated. 

“ _You_ ’re not like your uncle,” Alin pointed with a sigh. “But neither are any of his men, for that matter. I don’t think he will let any of you follow in his footsteps.” 

“No?” Amelia tensed further, gritting her teeth. “Why?!”

_Because there’s a price to pay. There always is with these things._

Her muscles contracted and were set in motion with the sheer will of anger, yet before the blonde could take a single step Alin was suddenly in her face, having moved with a speed beyond comprehension and all she could do was to pull away quickly, panting from the sudden shock.

“I can d-defend myself just fine!”

Pulling herself together, Amelia tried to drive her fist into the vampire’s jaw, but he smoothly dodged it with what seemed like a lazy move. Regardless, the American tried again and again, relentlessly, to punch and kick, even tried to duck and pick one of the pistols from the ground. But all the effort yielded no results, the vampire continued to toy with her, until eventually he captured her wrists and Amelia found herself pinned down on the exercise mat.

Alin’s grip was soft like velvet but freezing cold and tough like iron, inescapable, yet the blonde still struggled, increasingly annoyed with the widening grin of the boy on top of her.  It held no malice but genuine amusement and that made it all the more irritating.

“This is your fault, isn’t it?” she suddenly inquired stilling, struck by an idea on how to wipe that obnoxious smile off Alin’s face.

“What is?”

“Them having their eyes on me, like you said – Lili Zwingli is jealous.” She paused a bit, bright blue eyes boring into his garnet ones. “You rejected her advances, didn’t you?”

Alin blinked and, as anticipated, his grin vanished, replaced by a blank stare with some sour accents. 

“Why would you think-… They only asked me to help them escape! Was I supposed to say ‘yes’ or something?!”

“Oh, I can see why you’d make a very useful addition to their little coven, especially since unlike them you do look like an adult, that’s why I figured that they must have offered you something in return,” Amelia replied cunningly. “Lili must be sick and tired of her brother by now and that would… I don’t know, kinda make you part of their family? You wouldn’t be all alone anymore.”

The Romanian scowled and pulled away, retreating towards the door as Amelia got back on her feet, now smiling in turn. It was somewhat of a satisfaction to realize that she was able to read him in turn and have the upper hand, at least in conversation.

“You don’t know them at all! They are so fucking proud of their _noble descend_ and of not having any qualms about killing petty mortals like you, and I should be very fucking stupid to think I could ever be part of their ‘glorious’ family!” he spat.

Amelia smiled some more, pulling off her practice fingerless gloves and wrapping a towel around her neck.   

“Yes, but that’s not why you rejected her. You could have been smoother about it, but if they got angry I can imagine you did so quite bluntly,” she said amused. “And since you said that they can hear everything being said between these walls, they must have concluded that it was because of me. But there was no way around it, was there? You’re just… shy and awkward with girls.”  

But Alin only offered her a bored sigh and a dramatic flip of his hair on his way out, waving his hand in dismissal. “You’re a sore loser, Amelia Jones,” he stated. “Shut up and go home already, it’s late.”

And just like that, he was gone before the blonde got the chance to ask what the hell he was doing there in the first place. But Amelia would not press it just yet, pursuing right now would have been kind of lame. There would be plenty of time for that when they met again at the store and now Amelia having found his weak spots could grill him with ease. Deciding it was best to shower more leisurely at home this time, she pulled on the jacket of her old track suit over the sweaty t-shirt and zipped it up, then picked up her bag and headed out.

* * *

 

Outside, the wind was chilly and pricked her damp hair, making the American shiver and hug herself as she walked. Throwing one last look back at the black walls looming behind, she sped up towards the central park stretching nearly all the way to her house, cutting the small town in two. It wasn’t a comfortable walk this late at night, but it was the shortest.      

Dry leaves stirred by the wind rushed in front of Amelia’s steps down the empty alley, dancing in the pale light of the lonely streetlamps with the sad whispers of autumn and she thought that it would soon start to smell of winter. Instinctively she inhaled deeply, feeling a burn in her lungs as cold air entered them, but now there was something else, her nose picked something like a foul odor, of rotten meat.

She stopped but for a second, turning briefly to look around, but the black shadow which had followed her all along slipped behind a tree before the blonde could get a glimpse of it.

* * *

 

Dr. Jones was at his desk, a steaming cup of coffee next to his laptop as he typed in concentration, not bothering to look up when the door opened. Alin’s mouth momentarily twisted into a grimace as he walked in quietly and closed the door behind him, holding the messenger bag in his arms like a shield.

“I didn’t think you’d be back here so soon,” the doctor observed casually.

“I just came to return the books I’d borrowed,” Alin replied, clutching the bag demonstratively. “I didn’t find anything useful-“

“Hey!” the other pointed, looking up at last. “What are you doing coming so close to me? Have you forgotten the rules?”

The vampire flinched and quickly stepped away from the desk, muttering an excuse after dropping the bag on one corner. He then proceeded to inch back towards the door, with the clear intent to make himself scarce.

“Leaving already?” Jones inquired, standing and adjusting his spectacles. He was a tall, well-built man, still looking quite athletic in his early fifties and the way he rolled his broad shoulders now, making the neat white shirt stretch was rather ominous. “I thought your little addiction couldn’t be helped…”

Alin shrugged awkwardly, his hand already on the knob. “No, but… I feel worse and worse every time. When you stab me I lose more blood than I’m getting afterwards, so there’s no point-“

“I could give you more books to check out,” the doctor offered, stepping closer - the Romanian guessed there must have been a weapon at the ready on him if he got so close so casually and his stomach cringed in fear. “And… perhaps we could find another way to make things safe…”

The boy shook his head, fumbling blindly with the knob which for some reason now refused to work. “No, thanks. Your blasted protégées threatened me again and they were very confident about it too! And you’d never trust me, so there’s no way you wouldn’t hurt me before getting your fix-”

“I meant a way not to make you bleed, I didn’t say ‘painless’,” Jones clarified, even if his features softened a bit.

Alin threw a quick, horrified glance towards the iron laboratory bed. “No, no, I’m done, _that_ no-“

“Come on…” The tall American ignored the other’s flinch when he wrapped his strong arms around him and nuzzled the light, coppery-tinged strands. “Remember what I told you about my dates? Let’s go upstairs to my bedroom.”

**_To be continued_ **


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

A/N – Hello everyone! I can assure you that I’m just as displeased as you are about this unwanted hiatus, but my muses refused to help and when I asked ‘Come on, come on, give me _something,_ damn it!’ they just laughed in my nose because when have they ever done what I was asking?! That’s right, **_never_**. (they also kindly suggested that I should stop drinking and deluding myself too…). But here it is, finally an update and I bet you didn’t see THIS coming! Enjoy!  

* * *

 

“It was a ghoul. I can still smell it on you.”

Amelia had never gotten home the previous night.

_Relieved to already see the white fence of her parent’s home showing through the trees in the clearing at the end of the last alley, the blonde sped up, clutching the strap of her bag tightly against her shoulder. The wind had gotten much colder since she’d left the Fortress, making her dream of another hot shower and the fluffy warmth of her pajamas. And the need for comforting thoughts was further emphasized by the feeling of unease which had gradually grown on her on the short walk, along with the foul smell lingering in her nostrils. It was as if somewhere nearby there was a big pile of trash which had gone unpicked for days and now was all rotten, gone bad in the most literal sense of the word._

_And then, out of the blue, large claws gripped her arms as_ something _jumped Amelia from behind, making her stumble and nearly fall flat on her face. The thing made no sound, it was silent as death, but its claws tore through one of her thin jacket sleeves and through her skin with enough violence to make her scream in pain, but by some miracle-…_

“Why was there a ghoul?” she asked absent, stretching her legs.

She was too tired to think right now, to ask herself where the hell her uncle had gone to so early in the morning, since when there were _ghouls_ (of all fucking things!) in their small town and a million of other details in between, but she was much, much too tired…

“I don’t know and I’d rather not make any grim assumptions just yet either.”

“Ouch!”

It hurt like hell when Alin pressed the antiseptic-soaked pad over the deep scratches left by the beast on her left upper arm. But she had been lucky to escape with just that and make it back here, although _how_ she’d actually made it back to the Fortress was a mystery. At least she’d had the instinct to drive the creature away from her home, away from her parents and Alfred. Her memories were a complete blur, up to the point where she’d stumbled up on the steps many hours later - just as dawn was breaking - and had used the spare key. Her bag was gone, jacket torn and jeans muddy, but at least the rest of her was in one piece.

“Is it really okay for you to do this?” Amelia asked, still quite numb. “To be this close to blood? It’s like having a chat with your favorite cake, isn’t it?”

A vague scowl made itself apparent on the vampire’s face as he kept the pad pressed to her arm with light fingers and she saw his nostrils flare almost imperceptibly.

“It’s not like that,” he said neutrally, avoiding her gaze. “I don’t think of people as _food_ in this manner.”

“But you’ve bitten people in the past,” the American pointed, leaning backwards a bit. “That’s why the Council punished you and that’s why you’re being kept under surveillance and tested regularly. Although… right now I don’t know about the tests. Are they a hoax?”

_Amelia rushed down the dark corridor, gripping her injured arm and forcing her shaking legs to move forward. Blood had soaked through the torn sleeve of her jacket and the wound pulsed with pain. Damn, her uncle needed to have a look at it right away!_

_Good things she still had her keys, because the repeated knocks on the doors of the laboratory rendered no result whatsoever! A slight panic gripped the American at the thought that her uncle might not be there as she pulled out the key with a trembling hand and struggled to make it fit in the hole, but then again where the hell could he be this early in the morning?! No, no, he had to be sound asleep!_

_Once in, she threw a hasty glance at the small, spiraled staircase leading from the main laboratory hall to Dr. Jones’s small living quarters, but there was no light visible under the closed door. She rushed there, stumbling and nearly knocking over a metal table, and made the mistake of gripping the stairs railing with her injured arm. Pain shot through her limb with such violence that the blonde actually whimpered in pain, biting her lip and fresh tears welled from her eyes as she squeezed them shut for a moment._

_The pain and fatigue made climbing every step hard and painful and by the time she reached the top of the stairs Amelia was nearly out of breath. She opened the door of Jones’s room with one quick gesture, panting heavily, and one quick look around the room was enough to confirm her worst fears – the doctor wasn’t in._

_Instead, the boy she was having a not-yet-acknowledged crush on was laying face-down among the creased sheets of her uncle’s bed, obviously asleep and even more obviously unclothed._

“Yes, they’re a hoax,” Alin confirmed, straightening his back and reaching for the gauze strip. “But the people I’ve bitten were all some drunkards who had no idea what was happening to them anyway, the type you find by the dozen at student parties. No one I actually knew.”  

The blonde ignored that piece of information, still unable to digest her uncle’s incredible hypocrisy. He was all talk about how vampires were a plague for this world and how an extended, permanent war was necessary for their long-term eradication, but in the same time he was letting a vampire feed on his own blood in exchange for sex. Because this must have been it, right?!

And here she was, jealous of it. _God, I’m such a fucking idiot!_

 _“_ You know, I always thought that if you swung that way you’d be going for Lukas,” Amelia stated, with a bitter smile. “I mean that boy is so fucking beautiful that he’s stressing me out.”  

“I don’t though,” the vampire said, extracting a strip from the package and unfolding it carefully. “But yeah, Lukas is something else I guess… I can tell him that you like him, if you want,” he offered with a lop-sided smile which only lingered on his face for a brief moment. The blank expression from before replaced it as he worked on wrapping the strip around her arm, over the pad, and secured it in place.

“I want you to tell me why the fuck are you sleeping with my uncle!” the American tried to shout, her voice tired and raspy. “What the fuck is going on, huh?! Is he letting you drink his blood?! Is that it?!” Okay, she was on the verge of tears again and this was just fucking lame right now.

Alin pulled away and crossed his arms, scowling, yet he didn’t look as much offended by the question, more like it made him sad.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?!”

“I’m sorry that you discovered this world, that you got involved into this whole thing and that you ever set foot in this place,” he stated. “And I’m sorry that you have put yourself in danger by talking to me.”

Amelia exhaled loudly and leaned further in her chair, letting her head fall backwards over the backrest and her arms hang limply at her sides as she stared blankly at the dark ceiling, where long spider webs blackened with dust hung and fluttered faintly in the draft.

 _“_ Yeah.”

She was sleepy now and fatigue was gradually overcoming the creeping headache and numbing the fear, hurt and disappointment. If only she could forget everything, drop it all and leave it behind, everything she loved in this weird, wicked little town, everything that was so much a part of who she was and that would end up suffocating her eventually, making her rot alive in her own misery and unhappiness. God, this was such a horrible, horrible shit!    

A few steps away, Alin was observing the girl sprawled over in helplessness, her hair spilling over the iron backrest in ruffled caramel locks, her lids resting heavy and purplish over her closed eyes, long eyelashes brushing the slightly freckled top of her cheeks, her rosy lips parted as she breathed slowly and suddenly had the vision of a fresh rose bud withering before time under harsh, adverse winds. Silently, he cursed his maker, Dr. Jones, the Zwingli siblings, Tsvetan Borisov and his stupid shop, the eccentric Kirklands and last but not least his own inability to push her away and make her give up this foolish and perilous endeavor.   

“Ghouls don’t walk outside during the day, you should go home and get some sleep now,” the vampire said eventually with a sigh, after the silence had stretched between them long enough to become uncomfortable, at least for him. “As for your uncle, he’s probably spending some quality time with his protégées, so I wouldn’t waste my time waiting for him if I were you. Speaking of which, no, he doesn’t let me drink his blood, just gives me a couple of blood bags every now and then, since he’s getting regular supplies for _them_ anyway.”

As he was talking, Amelia thought she felt light fingers treading through her hair and that he was leaning over her, their noses almost touching. And then he was gone.

* * *

  

Of course, Alin had known right off the bat that Amelia had been brokenhearted by the discovery of his unfortunate ‘affair’ with Dr. Jones, so much so that more obvious and grave things had escaped her attention, but had dismissed it right away. Not because he didn’t care – he _did_ care, the blonde was the only girl he’d actually spoken to since his turning, he liked her even as he realized how very different they were and how nothing good could ever come out of their getting close – but because things were getting really serious with the Zwinglis and their threats no longer seemed as farfetched as before. Alin had envisaged that something bad was bound to happen if (when) they were to escape Dr. Jones’s imprisonment, but it had turned out that the peril was much closer: they must have had someone outside, servants of some sort which had been contacted and set in motion, because that ghoul hadn’t popped out of thin air and surely, it could have killed Amelia with ease if that had been its masters’ intentions.

But instead the attack looked like a warning, not as much to Amelia as to him, it clearly spelled ‘help us escape, or your human friends will pay the price and their blood will be on your hands’.     

The thought was dismal to say the least, because even if the Romanian could take down a ghoul in the blink of an eye there was no way he could be with Amelia at all times to keep her safe and figured that Jones wouldn’t be of much help either. For some reason, the doctor was too engrossed in whatever his project was involving the vampire children and Alin told Amelia so quite openly.

“It must have something to do with all the books on alchemy I saw in the lab,” he pointed. “He was very evasive when I asked about them.”

It had been two days since the incident, a relatively peaceful interval during which Amelia had been more or less numb with shock and had purposely procrastinated thinking things over. The truth was that she sort of doubted that she had the energy for it to begin with. Still, she’d gone back to Borisov’s shop on autopilot on Monday evening, work was work and having something to do helped to keep her mind off other things. At least until now that Alin had brought up the subject at hand in a very forward manner, perhaps uncharacteristically so and something in his demeanor made it clear that time for beating around the bush was over.

“Alchemy?” she asked casually, continuing to sort through the mess of booklets and flyers littering the front desk. Mr. Borisov had the unfortunate habit of bringing new stuff and just dropping it in a heap that was somehow supposed to sort and order itself by magic or something…

“Yes. You know, that kind of stuff where you mix unicorn piss with the Philosopher’s stone to make gold from sand for example,” Alin explained with a grimace. “It’s supposedly a _science_.”

“So my uncle is trying to make gold?” She looked up and gave the vampire a questioning glare. “I get it, he’s not such a good guy as I thought he was all my life but he’s not a fucking leprechaun either, you know?!

“The Philosopher’s stone is also supposed to make someone immortal,” Alin replied smoothly. “Like a vampire, but without having to hide from the sun and without the curse of blood-thirst. It sounds very convenient.” 

“Yeah.”

With an irritated huff, the American tossed down the bunch of flyers she was sorting and went to pick up her jacket from the back room. When she came back, there was a scowl on her face.

“Okay, I’m so done with this shit right now! Just cover for me, okay? I’ll be back soon.”

“Hey, where are you going?”

Hand on the knob, Amelia paused only for a second to smooth a nervous hand through her hair. “Going to see Arthur and Alice. If there’s anyone who can give me any fucking answers about all this alchemy shit it’s gotta be them!”

* * *

 

Ignoring the very real possibility of ghouls outside lurking at the cover of darkness, Amelia stepped out in the street hugging herself in the battered old leather jacket which was now back in use. She felt safe in it, however ridiculous and unfounded that was.  It was damn cold again and the scent of an impending icy rain hung in the night air, but luckily the Kirklands lived in one of the old, elegant townhouses in the center, not two corners away from _Borisov’s Magic Books & Gifts Shop_.    

The blonde rushed up the front steps and rang the bell impatient. _Come on, Alice, come on!_  Slow, cautious steps resounded on the other side of the door, then someone fumbled with the lock, eventually cracking the door open.

“Alice! Is Arthur home?! I need you guys to help me with something and it’s rather ur-“

Amelia paused abruptly upon noticing her English friend’s expression. It was tired and wary, like a chased animal’s. Alice seemed to observe her face carefully, then peeked past Amelia’s shoulder and proceeded to slam the door shut, without a single word.

“Alice! Seriously?!”

Plagued by a sudden suspicion, the American turned around and saw Alin leaning against a streetlamp, just behind her.

“The fuck are you doing?! Are you stalking me now?!” she shouted. “There! My friends turned their back on me because of you! They warned me, you know?! They told me that this was a bad idea!”

The vampire rolled his eyes and shook his head. “And Heaven forbid you ever listen to what you’re told, Miss Jones,” he teased. “But still, this right now wasn’t because of me. I took the liberty of reading her mind - Arthur’s done some shit and they don’t want _you_ to know about it.”

Amelia blinked in shock, trying to comprehend what he was just saying. Alice and Arthur had always been her friends, ever since they were all kids, she’d always known they had their quirks but even when Arthur had been picked up by the Council for interrogation because of his studies of black magic, it had been because of his own big mouth, not hers. She would never betray her friends! Never! And the thought that Alice could now think otherwise hurt so much that it brought tears in her eyes.

Meanwhile, the Romanian walked up to the door and knocked on it softly, clearing his throat. “Hey, Alice! Could you open up please? We don’t want to come in, we just need to talk to Arthur, okay? If this is about Alastair Grey, we already know.”

The door opened again, and this time the bespectacled girl on the other side pulled the chain off. She still looked scared, her gaze trailing from the vampire to Amelia and back, her shoulders slumped as if she barely held back the urge to hug herself. She licked her chapped lips nervously.

“H-How do you know about Alastair Grey?” she asked in a low voice.  

“Arthur’s been talking about him a lot,” Alin explained. “And wearing that awful ‘scar’ on his neck. And last time we spoke, he was trying to… um… well, it’s not very clear to me what he was trying to do, but-”

“Can you help him?!” Alice cut him off suddenly. “Can you fix his mind?! I want my brother back!” She started to sob. “Please, I want my brother back!”

**_To be continued_ **


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

A/N – Hello my dear readers! Guess what, I’m back with an unexpected update (since I find myself momentarily unable to work on anything else… pfffft). So enjoy!

* * *

 

Alice ushered them in without a second thought and Amelia felt a cold shudder upon stepping into the dark hallway that was otherwise so familiar. It was as if a darkness of some sort had descended upon the house, dimming the lights and making the air foul. Just what the hell could have Arthur possibly done this time?! She didn’t know what the hell was up with Alastair Grey either, but kept her mouth shut just in case, wondering what it was that Alin knew and if he wasn’t bluffing by any chance.

“You know, when I was twelve at some point I thought… that it would be nice if I married Arthur some day,” the blonde whispered close to Alin’s ear, as soon as her friend rushed to lead the way to the upper floor and was out of earshot. “Like, what the hell was I thinking?!” she added with a light snort.

 The vampire chuckled. “You dreamed of him taking you on a date on his broomstick?”

In reply Amelia elbowed him swiftly in the side. “Shut up, you! I didn’t know about ‘broomsticks’ and stuff back then!”

“Oh my God, you have such a dirty mind!” Alin hissed, looking shocked. “Witches fly on a broomstick, you know? Much cooler than a regular ride, I was about to say, but you twisted my words in the foulest way possible!”

_Yeah, I’m sure that was it…._

He tsked and shook his head.

Alice led them straight to her brother’s bedroom, which was a dismal sight. Everything had been turned upside down and in the middle of the mess, sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor which had been stripped of its carpet and had been instead covered in innumerable designs drawn in black chalk was Arthur, pale like a ghost and staring numbly at the ground in front of him, hands stained with black dust resting limply onto his bony knees. He was barefoot and obviously dirty and battered, his clothes reduced to torn rags, as if his own room had been mysteriously turned into a dungeon.

“How long has he been like this?” Alin asked calmly while Amelia fought back a shocked gasp.

“Almost a week now…” Alice was still sobbing and wiped her eyes behind her glasses with a trembling hand as her thin shoulders shook uncontrollably. “I was hoping… I thought that… he’d come around b-before… I would have t-to ask for the C-Council’s help…”

The vampire kneeled in front of the numb boy on the floor and glanced into his eyes intently. He stared for a while, in complete silence, a puzzled scowl growing on his face as he did. Then, brusquely, he turned his head away and pointed to something lying under a random pile of books and notebooks on the floor.

“What’s that, there?” he asked quickly. “There’s a book there, something with brown leather covers, what is it?”

The question set Alice in motion automatically and in the next second she was down on her knees, rummaging in the indicated spot. She found the book and hastily adjusted her glasses upon turning the first few pages. “Oh, this is… uh… a copy or a transcript of Alaistair’s personal journal, Arthur ordered it from an online antique shop a couple of weeks back… I didn’t-“

“You have to destroy it,” Alin stated bluntly.

 “What?!”

“Arthur used it to get in touch with Alastair’s memories,” the vampire explained, turning back to the Englishman and cupping the side of his face with his hand with a gesture of odd affection of sorts. “But they took over his mind. Now he doesn’t know which is which.”

“Wait, wait, what?!” Amelia cut in. “What do you mean ‘he doesn’t know which is which’? Which is what?!”

Alin scowled openly. “He no longer knows which are his own memories and which are Alaistair’s, for fuck’s sake! Look at him, he thinks he murdered his own child!” His features softened somewhat upon noticing the American’s pure shock. “Black magic can be extremely powerful, but it always comes at a cost, always. Alaistair Grey became a great sorcerer, but he sacrificed the life of his four-year old daughter for it. It wasn’t a quick death either…”

Amelia swallowed hard, tears glistening in her bright blue eyes. “ _Oh my God_! He was a monster!! He was monstrous and you-…” Her pained gaze trailed rapidly from Arthur to Alice, who sat slumped on the floor in a corner, staring in her lap, “You two were _proud_ of being of his bloodline! I can’t fucking believe it! I can’t fucking believe it!”  

“Amelia, they didn’t know until now,” Alin said softly. “It’s not public information, it’s not even in the diary. Arthur found out the hard way. The problem now is that he thinks _he_ ’s done it.”

The blonde observed Alice in silence, there was a mute despair in the smaller girl’s countenance and in the way her thin fingers were clenched helplessly in the fabric of her checkered skirt and it was obvious that her friend’s outburst of undeserved judgment had only hurt her further.  

 _You mean… there’s a danger that Alastair Grey might end up possessing him or something?_  

The Romanian shook his head inconspicuously. _Not possessing, the man is long dead, but Arthur might just go mad with a guilt that was never his… So let’s fix it, shall we? For a start, I will need you to slap him. Hard._

_Why can’t you slap him?!_

_Because I will probably break his jaw… I have no experience with hitting someone ‘gently’._

Amelia shuffled forward, quickly wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, and promptly delivered a hearty slap across the Englishman’s face, with a strength which – she realized afterwards – had probably relieved all past frustrations related to their potential relationship.

“Idiot, you never had any children! Get a fucking grip on yourself!” she shouted. Yep, Amelia Jones was good at giving tough love, if anything.

But then Arthur looked up at her slowly – his only visible reaction in fact – and sported a rather uncertain expression.

“He doesn’t, does he?” the American asked, turning to his sister, but Alice just shrugged.  “OH, FOR FUCK’S SAKE, YOU GUYS!”

Behind her Alin snorted, seemingly on the verge of bursting into laughter. “Oh goodness, relax, he doesn’t have any kids,” he said amused. “Alice, I’m afraid that the book must be destroyed immediately. Arthur has placed a spell on it to have access to your ancestor’s memories and the only way to break it and make him snap out of it is to destroy it. Burn it, preferably.”

The bespectacled girl snatched the volume and scrambled to her feet, dusting her skirt quickly. “Okay!! In the living room, I’ll throw it in the fireplace right now!” With that she scurried away and Amelia sighed, feeling suddenly tired and defeated. Once again, everything had turned out to be much, much too weird for her to handle.

* * *

 

Downstairs, Alice was standing with her arms crossed in front of the blazing fireplace, watching the remnants of Alastair Grey’s diary being consumed by the flames. Despite obvious relief, there was still chagrin etched on her delicate, freckled porcelain features and for the first time Amelia had a glimpse of realization of how much a burden (more than anything else) their family legacy was for the Kirkland siblings.  

“I think we should let Arthur rest for tonight, he won’t be of much help, yeah?” the vampire suggested, loud enough to make the younger sister turn and offer them a wry smile.  

His coworker sighed again. “I guess… No point in talking more shit about alchemy and the Philosopher’s Stone now on top of everything else…”

Alice blinked, looking puzzled. “Why would _you_ want to talk about alchemy and stuff?”

It was only then that the American realized there was no way in hell she could tell her friend the truth. Not about the vampire siblings or her uncle sleeping with-… Just no.

“Uh… my uncle is researching it,” she replied hesitantly.”And of course, he’s keeping _me_ out of it as usual, so I thought… But Alin here says it’s all bullshit. I was curious, that’s all.”

“It _is_ bullshit,” Alice confirmed. “Alchemists could not perform any actual magic, or ‘make’ gold. They only produced a similar alloy which could go mostly undetected and pass as gold, but the scam was discovered eventually. It is beyond me why your uncle would choose to waste his time with this old shit.”  

 _Clearly_. “What about the Philosopher’s Stone? The one which can make you immortal without any… _encumbrance_?”

“Yeah… Harry Potter has it,” Alice said and rolled her eyes. “That one is even more ridiculous than the gold. There is no such thing as ‘without encumbrance’ when it comes to obtaining anything… unnatural. You can ask him,” she added and pointed to Alin.

* * *

 

“Okay, so the Zwingli siblings have my uncle set upon some wild goose chase, that’s just fan-fucking-tastic,” the blonde concluded once they were back out in the street and she shrugged in the leather jacket, feeling the night chill seeping through it. “Perhaps I should just go to him and call out on his bullsh-“

“Amelia, I think you should just give up.”

The American turned around and gave Alin a long, hard stare, but there was no trace of smile or casualness on his face, he looked dead serious. As she’d learned, that didn’t happen often with him, but when it did he usually meant every word he was saying. And now, more than ever, there was something final in the way he’d spoken, as if an invisible door which had started to crack open more and more was now suddenly being slammed shut in her face.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. You should forget this whole thing, quit this stupid job and just go back to living your life, maybe even… somewhere away from this shitty little town.” He paused, drawing a long, unnecessary breath. “Somewhere you can be happy.”

“Where I can be happy?! As if you’d care about that!”

Okay, why had she snapped like that, again?!

Alin’s eyes dulled into a bored expression and he shrugged, sweeping his bangs aside with a lazy gesture. “I don’t really, it’s just a friendly piece of advice. Besides, you’d be helping me out tremendously if you walked away from this feud which doesn’t concern you. I will be brutally honest here – I simply can’t afford the Zwinglis to find out that I care about humans or, as you’ve already had it spelled out for you quite clearly last night, the corpses will start piling up and it will only be my fault. I can’t let you and Lukas and any of my other friends become leverage for them to negotiate my help, do you understand?”  

She did, of course. How could she not? His words were nothing but sound, hard and cold logic. He meant well. He meant to keep her safe, out of harm’s way, her and all other humans that he _did_ care about. And this was much more than it could have been said about her uncle, as sad a conclusion as it was.   

Amelia nodded slowly, feeling terribly tired all the sudden.

“So you’ve got it all figured out, huh? I mean, yeah, I’m sure you’re right, even if what you say doesn’t really match what you do and shit…”

Alin shrugged again, although some of the indifferent façade had melted away into sadness. “There isn’t much to figure out, Amelia, I’m dead. That fact limits my options considerably. “He sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “But you _do_ have options… And please, don’t think of trying to dig your uncle out of whatever shit he’s gotten himself into. You can’t! He’s a grown man and he’s made his own choices, for fuck’s sake!”

The blonde nodded again, mustering a small, wry smile as she took a few steps forward and leaned in to kiss Alin square on the mouth.

_If only things could be different…_

 

**_To be continued_ **

**A/N – wow, wasn’t this a short, uneventful chap… BUT. Next time… shit really goes downhill so brace yourselves!**


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

A/N – Hello my dear readers! First of all, thank you guys so much for the interest shown to this fic, it means a lot to me that people enjoy my twisted plots! And precisely because of that, this plot will become _particularly_ twisted, right now. So enjoy this extra-long chap! (and remember, it’s gotta get bad before it gets good and I never promised a ‘classic’ happy ending to this anyway ;))

**_Warnings:_ ** _mentions of gore and violence, major character death **(altogether not for the faint of heart)**_

* * *

 

Dr. Jones was not answering his phone. Amelia had tried to call him all morning – she’d done it persistently in every recess, and had texted him at least five times during classes. Nothing. And she couldn’t but be quite frantic now, since the previous night a horrible dream had woken her violently, effectively dispersing the vague euphoria of having finally kissed Alin.  

Worst luck of all, today was a sunny day, so obviously the Romanian wasn’t at school and she didn’t have his number either (because, for some reason, they’d always met without the need of prior communication, as if it had been a given). But after the previous night something had happened too, something definitive and Amelia didn’t think she would see him again, not of his own will anyway. Alin was determined – for everyone’s sake – to disappear from her life once and for all.

However, this didn’t solve the problem of whatever shit her uncle had gotten himself into and now, with that awful feeling she’d been plagued with since waking, Amelia was really worried. And logic, the only person who could have helped was nowhere to be found! Of course, he would be at the bookstore later in the evening (if he hadn’t given that up as well!), but she didn’t have that kind of time to waste.  

Phone still in hand, the blonde hurried down the hall with her bag barely hanging on one shoulder, fleetingly remembering that she’d promised to take Alfred out to lunch after his classes. Damn it! It looked like she’d have to take a rain check, unless Dr. Jones showed up safe by lunchtime.

Briefly, as she passed several groups of students on her way out of the building, Amelia noticed Alice Kirkland by a window, talking lively with three other girls she didn’t know. And there was something wrong with this picture, because Alice was a recluse and she rarely ever hung out with anyone aside from the American, but now the bespectacled blonde did not spare her as much as a glance.

 _Looks like I fucked this one up too_ , Amelia thought bitterly. _Because of all the stupid shit my uncle got into my head I ended up suspecting everyone of the worst and everyone has ended up turning their back on me! And still, here I am, rushing to save him, like a fool!_

* * *

 

 _Borisov’s Magic Books & Gifts Shop_ somehow managed to look almost as dark and creepy during the day as it did during the night, Amelia noticed, rushing through the front door. And there, in front of the counter she stopped uncertain, wondering if Lukas Bondevik didn’t hate her too just like everyone else – after all, it had been Dr. Jones and his ‘merry men’ who had forcefully given him a cold holy water shower under the suspicion that he was a vampire, not so long ago. The Norwegian was with a customer momentarily, a tall blond with wild spiky hair, sporting a large gothic skull on the back of his t-shirt. The blond was explaining something – or perhaps flirting? – in some language other than English and Lukas looked bored, his eyes anywhere but on the guy’s face.

“If you’re looking for Mr. Borisov, he actually came today, he’s in the back,” Lukas said peering from behind the guy’s frame, and the blonde realized she’d just been standing there, probably looking inane or something.

“The hell with Mr. Borisov, I-I wanted to talk to you!” Amelia blurted, stepping forward and making the other guy turn sharply and give her an open glare.

“What do you mean? Who the hell are you?!” he growled.

“ _Anko_ , you’re annoying,” Lukas stated in a tone that would have been off-putting by excellence to anyone with minimum abilities of reading the atmosphere. Not the guy though.

“Well, nice to meet you, An-ko, I’m Amelia Jones. Now if you could just-”

“Don’t you dare call me _Anko_!” the wild-haired blond snapped. “What the hell is going on here?!”

“She’s Alin’s girlfriend, they had a fight and now he won’t talk to her, okay?” the Norwegian replied bluntly, gracing the other with a stern gaze, then turned to Amelia. “He says this is for the best,” he told her, on a softer tone.

Amelia was exasperated, ignoring the surge of irritation at the thought that Alin had talked to other people about _this_ , (whatever the hell it was!). “Okay, I got it, he wants to break up with me? Fine! But that’s not why I’m trying to get to him, right now I think my uncle’s done some shit and I-”

She was cut short by a buzz in her messenger bag where she’d absently stuffed her phone and she hurried to pull it out and check the lit screen. There, at last, was a message from Dr. Jones.

_‘We need to talk.’_

Damn him, if he needed to talk, then why the fuck wasn’t he picking up when she called him?! Frantic, the blonde turned her back on the two boys and stormed out of the shop at top speed. She had to get to the Fortress, now.

* * *

 

The sun was gone, shrouded in thick, dark clouds by the time she got there, as if an early night was to fall upon the small town, and countless crows were perched ominously on the baring branches of the surrounding trees, their beady black eyes keen and intent.

_As if they’re waiting for a feast…_

The American used her spare key to get inside and instantly felt shivery as the chill of the old brick walls seeped through her thin shirt. Now that she thought of it, she’d had a jacket in the morning but the late autumn sun had tricked her into forgetting it somewhere, probably back in her locker at school. Damn it! The halls were dark and quiet, _much too quiet_. Usually during the day there were more people at the Fortress aside from her uncle, there were the two librarians, the Council’s regular guards and at least one janitor, the lamps were lit in the main hall at least, since there were no windows, and the random sound of voices echoed from time to time. Now there was no light and no sound, not even the janitor’s radio.

Amelia had the sudden, horrid feeling of walking into a tomb.

Her instincts were screaming at her to turn back, run outside, at least back to the relative safety of daylight, there was danger ahead and something really, really bad had happened, otherwise her uncle wouldn’t have asked to talk to her and he was family, despite everything she still cared for him almost as much as she cared for her parents and Alfred! And she needed to prove that she was reliable, damn it, not go and disappoint him too!

Little did she know that it was already too late.

The tall, double doors of the laboratory were hanging open inwardly, as if a violent storm had ripped through them, shattered holes filled with splinters gaping where the heavy iron locks had been, and debris, broken glass and various damaged equipment littered the checkered floor.  There had obviously been a battle here, and the next thing she discovered was that her uncle had lost it.

Dr. Jones’s body lay sprawled out on display on one of the metal tables, his clothes torn and his torso a mess of gore, his graying blond hair and beard matted with drying blood and his large, blue eyes still open behind his glasses.   

Amelia’s eyes instantly filled with tears as she walked numbly into the room, whimpering as both her hands flew up to cover her mouth. From up close the sight looked nightmarish, unreal, it just wasn’t possible, she half expected the man to sit up and tell her it had been a bad joke, he couldn’t have been dead, not like this, not like this, God!

Suddenly, the half-broken doors swung shut, slamming against the doorframe and the creaking hinges and the blonde flinched violently, her head whipping around to see the entrance now blocked, impassable.

“Oh my God… you actually _came_.”

Amelia saw a figure coming out of her uncle’s bedroom above and starting slowly down the spiraled stairs – a young girl of maybe twelve at most, with blond hair cropped messily just below her chin and piercing, dark green eyes, her skin that same perfect porcelain-white as Alin’s. And she would have been beautiful if she hadn’t looked like a grotesque doll, the plump, petal mouth twisted into a vicious grin and both her pink silk dress and the matching ribbon in her hair splattered with blood.

“You-… you’re _Lili Zwingli_ ,” Amelia realized out loud, eyes wide in horror.

The girl snorted as she drew closer, her steps so light they were almost soundless.

“I bet you didn’t think this would happen, did you,” spoke a second voice, this time a boy’s, who had been hiding behind Dr. Jones’s desk. He stood up, lean and graceful in his green velvet jacket, bearing a striking resemblance to his younger sister. _Vash Zwingli_. He too looked very young, he couldn’t have been more than sixteen or so when he’d died.

“You must have thought that we could never escape that filthy dungeon, just like _he_ did!” Vash stated, pointing to the mangled corpse with a sharp-nailed finger. “But it was _easy_ … All we had to do was to wait for him to get sloppy and allow one of his stupid staff to get near our room. Humans are so very easy to fool,” he pointed disdainfully. “By the way, we left _no one_ alive….”

But Amelia was too much in shock for that last sentence to register with her fully. There was so much pain constricting her chest that she couldn’t even properly panic. She was numb with pain, it throbbed, ripped through her whole being.

“What… what did you promise him?” she wanted to know. “What did you promise my uncle…?”

Vash scowled. “Your uncle was a greedy bastard! Back in Switzerland he took everything we had, everything we owned! And still, he wanted more! More!” he nearly shouted, fists clenching at his sides. “Luckily for us, this was also his undoing!”

“And if your uncle wasn’t enough of a hassle,” Lili intervened, “There was also… _you_ , Amelia Jones! You little human filth had the nerve to try and thwart me!”

Amelia felt a sudden, overpowering wave of hatred towards the wicked, bestial creature before her, and an incontrollable desire to hurt her, with words if with nothing else.

“You’re just an angry little bitch who never grew up,” the American retorted, mustering a grimace which she hoped was at least somewhat smug. “I bet you’ve never even been kissed… But he kissed me. Alin kissed _me_!”

Lili moved forward with lightning speed, slapping her across the face with such violence that Amelia collapsed and banged her head against the edge of the metal table Dr. Jones was lying onto. The blow made her dizzy and she felt warm blood trickling down her cheek where the vampire’s nails had scratched it.

“Don’t you dare speak of _him_ in front of my sister!” Vash growled and lifted her up by the neck, his thin, bony fingers closing mercilessly around her throat.

Amelia tried to punch him, kick him, futilely struggled to get free until nearly all strength had left her body, but it was like hitting a marble statue, the vampire was impossibly strong. She sniffed wearily – this was the end. One could only hope it came quickly and without much pain.

“So, what, after you kill me, you’ll go after Alin and kill him too…?” she whispered. 

“No,” Lili replied with a sadistic smirk. “ _You_ will kill him.”

Then Vash punched her in the chest swiftly and the last thing Amelia heard was her own ribcage breaking.

* * *

 

There were roughly two hours left until sundown when Alin got to the bookstore, a grim expression on his face as he walked in and tossed his bag on the counter, scanning the place quickly.

“Is Mr. Borisov in?” he asked absently, merely to confirm what he could already sense.

“Nah, he already left. D’ya want to talk to him?” Lukas muttered, eyes still glued to the book he was reading. 

“Listen, Lukas… I need you to go back to the apartment and stay there. Lock the door, close all the windows and don’t let anyone in, okay?! I’m serious. The Zwinglis escaped.”

“…what?!” The pale blond finally looked up from his book and fixated him with a puzzled stare. “Wha-… are you serious?! When?! I mean Amelia was here earlier and she-”

Alin exhaled deeply, unnecessarily, fists clenching on the hard wood he was leaning against. “Lukas, Amelia is dead,” he murmured, lips pressed into a thin, pained line.

“ _WHAT?!_ ”

“She’s gone…. I can’t feel her anymore. I can’t hear her thoughts anymore. She’s _gone_.”

The other scrubbed a hand over his face, then crossed his arms defensively. “I-I think it’s my fault! When she came here I told her that you didn’t want to-… But I thought you’d be asleep at that hour anyway! Oh my God!”

“It’s not your fault.” Alin sighed, pressing his forehead with his fingers. “It’s mine. I should have dealt with this long ago. I should have dealt with _them_ long ago,” he hissed. “I want the keys to Mr. Borisov’s weapon collection. Now.”

“I-I don’t have it!”

That was too bad. The Romanian circled the counter and went straight to the warehouse in the back, where he brought down the door to his employer’s secret vault in one kick. The bulb flickered to life, making the multitude of blades, spikes and other deadly pieces of metal decorating the walls gleam wickedly in the pale light. Normally, Alin would have been repelled and even slightly mortified by the sight and even now his stomach cringed, but it had to be done. If the Zwinglis were so enthralled by the Impaler, then they would fucking see him.  

“I think it’s a bad idea,” the Norwegian observed behind him. “I mean, have you ever even used this sort of weapons before?”

Alin snorted. “No, but how hard can it be?”

* * *

 

He tripped onto the first body on his way to the Council rooms. It was a young woman – one of the librarians – and it looked like she had been dragged out of her office with the express purpose of displaying her contorted, torn corpse in the path of whoever might be coming that way.  The thickened puddle of blood she was lying in clearly showed that she hadn’t been fed on – what a waste! – but just like rabid beasts out of the cage the vampire siblings had simply slaughtered everyone they could get their hands on, as gruesomely as possible.

_Rabid beasts…_

Alin was torn between the angered disgust and the hunger aroused by the pungent scent, even if the blood wasn’t fresh and had gone bad by now. It was the scent of violence, the scent of death and it was alluring, beckoning, but even so he knew that his trump card lay in his self-control and he also knew he’d always have more of that than the Zwinglis had on their best of days. Vampire children could never control themselves, they were impulsive and rapacious and could oppose neither their blood-thirst nor their emotions, not even after all the centuries they’d lived through, because once dead they had ceased growing up in more than one way. 

Still, Alin should have been afraid of them. Much older did also mean much stronger, much faster, and there was two of them against one. He had no experience with the weapons, only hope that they didn’t have either, hope that their blind, childish cruelty could be turned against them.

The siblings were in one of the large, lavishly furnished living quarters of the Council, and the Romanian was relieved upon sensing their presence. At least it meant that they’d not gone after anyone else yet. He didn’t know where Amelia (or rather, her body) was and he wouldn’t – _couldn’t_ \- think about it either, at least not just yet.

Weighing the handle of the long broadsword he’d picked for the job, Alin walked inside the living through the wide-open doors and closed them behind him carefully. The Zwinglis were obviously expecting him and had bothered with the atmosphere too – candles were burning all around the room and a fancy, black lacquered coffin had been laid on the mahogany table. One glance at it was enough for Alin to guess what it probably contained.

“So, you actually came,” Vash observed ironically. “I was so sure you’d long scurried off by now, like a little mouse. You know, left the town and all.”

“But you came here for your girlfriend, didn’t you?” Lili said, standing and smoothing her stained dress demonstratively. “Kind of late though to be playing her knight in shining armor, she’s already been taken care of, you see.” Purposely, she walked up to the coffin and patted the closed lid gently, in mocked affection.

“Looks like you have been wasting your time with trifles,” Alin said calmly. If they had been hoping for some syrupy drama, they’d gotten the wrong person.

Vash laughed loudly, walking up to join his sister by the coffin. “You see, as it happened, we had a better idea for resolving this dispute, which has taken up so much of our time already.” Beside him, Lili was smiling smugly, with barely contained pleasure. “Instead of taking the trouble to kill you ourselves, we will let your girlfriend do it when she awakens – you know how terribly hungry the new ones are…. And you’re a weakling so we already know she’ll win,” he said.

His sister then moved to open the coffin, where Amelia Jones lay as if sleeping, her caramel locks splayed gracefully onto the white silk bedding. Her clothes were messy but her body looked intact, her skin milky and without blemishes, the light freckles from before gone from the pale, smooth cheeks which had turned into the finest porcelain.

**_To be continued_ **

**A/N** – Yes, I am a truly horrible person. Before I forget, if you want more supernatural twisted-ness and happen to be a Lukas Bondevik fan, feel welcome to check my newest Hetalia fic – **Blackmarked 2 – Spell of the axe** **.**


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12 (FINAL)**

A/N – Hello everyone! You won’t believe me when I say, but this is actually the final chap of this fic! Now, this might sound disappointing, especially in the light of recent events, but I will do my best not to disappoint you guys in the end and yeah, I’m taking your votes into account also ;) That being said, thank you all for your amazing support and enjoy!!!

* * *

 

Alin’s gaze didn’t linger too much on Amelia’s body – he knew that if he stared long enough-... And there was still some time left until midnight, when she would _awake_. If there was any brighter side to this was that the Zwinglis had been every bit as predictable as he’d hoped. Coming this way he’d been keen on sensing whether any of their loyal ghoul servants were nearby, but there was no sign of them – Vash and Lili were much too confident in their absolute victory to bother summoning them this time.

_Too bad…_

“Well, it sure looks like you’ve got everything figured out,” he observed smoothly. “But I just wonder… shouldn’t you be more worried about yourselves first? Let me show you something too.”

There was a brief flicker of light, in a split second, and Vash saw his sister’s eyes widen in surprise, rosy lips parted for a gasp which never came, and then her doll-like head rolled off her shoulders, hitting the carpet with a sinister thud. The headless body followed a moment later, blood splattering her brother’s pristine clothes. The gore sight only lasted for a couple of minutes, during which the Swiss watched it in pure shock, then both the body and the severed head crumpled into distinct piles of grayish dust mixed with fragments of old bones, mixing in the puddle of blood they’d left behind.

“Lili… _LILI_!” Vash screamed eventually, overtaken by the horror of his sister’s loss, hands flying up to fist in his hair. He then looked back at the Romanian, his eyes narrowed to poisonous green slits. “You! You _monster_ …” he hissed.

Alin snorted. “Indeed. _I_ must have been the one who left a trail of corpses all over the place and failed to remember it… ”

“THEY WERE ALL JUST _HUMAN_ SCUM!”

The other mustered a small, bitter smile that was more a grimace than anything else.“I could never get myself to end a human life and for that you thought I must be some goody-two-shoes… You probably never wondered what happened to my maker. See, there are really no limits to how ungrateful I can be when it comes to our own kind!”

The boy lowered his head slowly – a clear sign that he was done talking and would attack now, by the way his eyes scanned his opponent, underestimating him no more. And Alin knew that his surprise advantage had been all spent on Lili (probably mistakenly so as she was bound to be the weaker of the two), taking her down was something but he could still lose this fight.

Before Vash could make a move or lunge forward, he swiftly kicked the end of Amelia’s coffin, making it rotate in place and knocking the Swiss off his feet as well as momentarily blocking his way.  But he barely had time to also pull out the hatchet hanging at the back of his belt before the other jumped back up and withdrew to the back of the room, looking for some weapon of his own.  Finding nothing suitable, Vash picked up a glass coffee table with metal legs and with a mere flick of his wrist smashed the crystal top against the wall. He then stomped his foot onto the remaining frame and detached one leg. The broken end was jagged and sharp and Alin cringed, realizing that one forceful blow was all it took to make it work like a spike and be driven through his heart.   

“You’re going to die here,” Vash growled in an inhuman voice. “And then I’m going after the two other friends of yours. I’m going to tear them apart limb from limb, very slowly! See, I know who they are, I know all about those you care for and I won’t stop until they’re all in the ground!”

The Romanian gritted his teeth, forcing himself to keep the other’s words from sinking in. Instead he briefly paused to pointedly examine Lili’s blood staining the sword in his hand. It had already turned black. _Keep it together, keep it together!_ Vash could order his ghouls from afar with his mind alone, but only if Alin allowed him to concentrate long enough. And maybe he wouldn’t do it anyway, he probably wanted to take care of things himself, to thoroughly enjoy the horror and agony of his victims.

“Wrong you are, I don’t care about anyone,” the student said with a grin. “I only care about winning this war… and all the other wars to come.”

Just as the Swiss jumped forward with his improvised spike aimed, Alin retreated quickly to the door, kicking an armchair this time in the other’s path. It bought him enough time to get out and slam the door shut from the outside. It was but a brief moment before the polished wood near his head exploded into a million splinters as the older vampire punched his fist through it from the inside, making a considerable hole. The spike came through another, immediately afterwards, this time also piercing Alin’s shoulder and making him drop the sword he’d switched into his left hand.

 _Okay, so I don’t have a plan… this is kind of bad_ , Alin thought, hissing in pain. _But he’s angry, he can’t think straight either…_

And that was one trick he could do as well – a third blow came, piercing the wood where his head had been a second before and the Romanian turned swiftly and drove the hatchet through the hole with all his strength. He heard a strangled sound from the other side and the blade came back bloody. He suspected he’d probably gotten Vash straight in the face, which for a vampire it was actually an insignificant wound unless they were unused to fights and overestimated the damage done.

Alin peeked briefly through the opening and saw the Swiss holding one hand pressed over the right side of his forehead, blood seeping through his fingers.  He seemed a bit confused…? The student decided to take advantage and kicked back the remainders of the door inwards, making them topple over Vash, but the other averted the wood plank with his armed hand, sending it flying aside. He wiped his bloody hand away on his trousers and flexed his fingers like a claw, while Alin noticed with growing unease that the gash on his forehead was almost completely closed. 

He’d retrieved his sword as well but the two weapons provided very little comfort. _If I’d had any brains I should have raided Jones’s laboratory, I might have been able to find something useful there… something like a gun with silver bullets or so._

Vash snorted suddenly, taking a few steps back towards the table and glanced down at Amelia’s body, weighting the makeshift spike in his hand pensively.

“On a second thought, since I’d better make sure with you, she’ll no longer be needed,” he stated, lifting his arm with the spike.

And, just as the Swiss had probably expected, Alin reacted on impulse and threw the hatchet at his head, missing.

“You’re dumber than I thought… and you _don’t even care_ about her, do you?” the green-eyed blond said, flicking the coffin over with lazy motion of his free hand, making it topple over from the table.

Vash was right, he’d been dumb just now, allowing himself to be pushed and make a stupid mistake! Amelia Jones was dead and the one awakening would not be her, at best it wouldn’t be _quite_ her, at worst it would be a mindless beast with nothing but her face, if he didn’t know that by now, who the hell did?!

And Alin was clearly over-thinking things too, because in the next moment Vash was right in front of him and punched him in the face with such strength that it sent him to the ground with a sickening crack of his jaw bone. The blow instantly made him dizzy and pain exploded in the side of his face and his opponent seized the opportunity to straddle his torso and clutch his throat with his free hand.

Green eyes glowed viciously like two drops of poison as the Swiss’s fingers squeezed and squeezed… as if he could actually strangle someone who wasn’t breathing anyway. But he was lightweight and Alin rolled and shook him off, barely dodging the spike the other tried to shove into his chest as he was losing his advantage. The Romanian crawled away to get the sword he’d dropped, kicking Vash in the face as he did, to put some distance between them.

“You’re just a frustrated little boy!” he spat, drawing against the wall.

He was still dizzy and the bones in his neck didn’t feel quite right, something must have been broken… And for some reason, the lack of balance probably, Alin found that he couldn’t get up either. His fingers gripped the hilt of the sword as he pushed back until he was flat against the wall, bringing his knees up to his chest.

“I will finish you now,” Vash said, wiping his mouth and now towering over his opponent. “And then I’ll go after your friends!”

Alin blinked slowly as a strange vision overtook him momentarily, a sinister glimpse of what he’d _seen_ when he’d ‘fished’ Arthur Kirkland from the murk of Alastair Grey’s memories. _And no one has more magic than a vampire, we are_ made of _magic…_ A short, raspy laugh resounded in the devastated room and the Romanian tilted his head to the side, making his broken neck crack some more with the motion.

“Oh, Vash… I really don’t think you want to meet my friends…” Alin lifted his chin smugly, aware that he might have been very well playing his last card. “ _Incendio!_ ” he whispered, pointing his finger in the boy’s direction.

In the next second Vash’s velvet jacket was engulfed by flames and he yelped, eyes widening in horror. The blaze forced him to withdraw, patting at the blaze to put it off, unfortunately it wasn’t much of a fire but enough to get him momentarily distracted.

Alin rolled his head around, finally feeling the bones in his neck healing back into place, albeit with quite the unpleasant sensation and in a bout of determination was up on his feet again. He lunged forward with a growl and managed to drive the sword through the Swiss’s stomach, then knocked him off his feet with a powerful kick. His opponent hadn’t even hit the ground yet when the student plunged the blade again into his torso, and again and again and again until his forearms were soaked with blackening blood and the sword was met with nothing but solid dirt over old bone.  

And then, as Vash Zwingli’s remains were finally showing their true nature, the shock of the night’s events finally hit Alin and he dropped on his knees limply, discarding the sword and clamping both hands over his mouth. “ _FUCK_! Fuck…” he muttered, chest heaving with unnecessary breaths and shoulders shaking uncontrollably as tears welled helplessly from his eyes.  

Kicking through the crumbling remains, Alin went to the toppled over coffin and lifted the bottom, extracting Amelia from under it. The limp, cold feel of her body made his stomach cringe and hurry to lower her down on the plushy couch. It was awful, this rag-doll stillness in someone who had been as full of life as she had, and the thought…

Alin had not wanted anything else but for her to live, to _live_ , God!

Instead, she’d rise again turned into cold, unforgiving marble inside and out, her beautiful, petal lips curled back into a vicious snarl, avid with the burning thirst which made all newly turned vampires into the most unimaginable of abominations.

And then… he’d have to do _something_ about it. 

He’d have to do something, just as he’d had to do something about his own maker, Rome Vargas, before he would prey on his own grandsons. And he’d loved the old man, but if the priest-turned-vampire hadn’t spared him, then he wouldn’t have spared Lovino or Feli either, so Alin had had no choice but to push his coffin out in the middle of the day with the lid open and watch the sun scorch the writhing remains to ashes. 

Fatigued, he slid down to the floor again, eyes trained on Amelia’s still face as he pulled the phone out of his pocket and scrolled down for a number he’d hoped he wouldn’t call anytime soon.

“ _Prego_ ,” a voice answered at the other end of the line after several long rings.

Alin took a deep breath he didn’t need, grimacing. “Hey Lovi… it’s me.”

“ _Bastardo, I knew you’d fuck something up eventually, I knew it!!”_ his cousin yelled instantly, in lieu of any other greeting.

* * *

 

A full minute past midnight, Amelia’s fingers twitched slightly, then her chest expanded briefly as if she were drawing breath, and eventually her eyelids fluttered open. Her head felt horribly heavy – like in the worst hangover ever – and her mouth was so damn dry, as if stuffed with cotton. Groaning, the blonde pushed herself up slowly, clinging to the sofa’s backrest for support. She felt so… weak!

Hissing at the sudden pounding ache in her skull, the American threw a rapid glance around the turned-upside-down room and her gaze finally rested on Alin, who was still sitting on the floor, his clothes stained with something black and disgusting, his t-shirt torn on the upper right side of his chest, near the shoulder, as if something had gone through it. There was some of the black stuff smeared on his face as well, crossed by lighter streaks which looked suspiciously like tearstains, and he was currently looking at her as if lost in a dream.

“Fuck, I think… I was knocked out or something,” she said and her voice sounded odd and raspy, almost foreign to her own ears. “Wha-… what happened?... Alin?!”

The other vampire pressed his lips into a thin line and he blinked slowly, eyebrows furrowed into a scowl.

“Oh my God!” Amelia recalled brusquely. “My uncle’s… he’s dead! They… those kids… wha-… Alin, what happened to you?!”

“SHIT HAPPENED TO ME!” he yelled with unexpected violence, showing genuine, unrestrained emotion for once. “To hell with your fucking uncle!! Everything I worked for… everything I fucking hoped for, it all went to shit! Fucking Vash Zwingli nearly killed me, he fucking broke my neck and now I must have started a fucking war with whatever coven they must have been affiliated to!”

“Wait! What?! Where are they?! Lili and Vash, where are they?!”

The Romanian pointed to the piles of dirt and bone fragments lying on the Council’s expensive Persian rug.

Amelia relaxed a bit, allowing herself a small sigh of relief. If the Zwinglis were dead, at least… “I wanna go home,” she said. “I need to get out of these clothes, have a long shower and drink some orange juice, I’m so… so thirsty!”

“You can’t go home,” Alin said darkly, standing up, and she saw the flicker of the sword in his hand. “If you do, you’ll kill your parents, your little brother and everyone you can get your hands on. I won’t let you do that.” There was something cold and determined in his garnet eyes as he spoke and his fingers had a steady grip on the hilt. “I won’t let anymore corpses pile up on my shift.”

The truth hit Amelia like a bucket of cold water, every drop filled with unspoken horror.

She was dead.

No, it was much, much worse. She was _undead_.

“You… you’re here to kill me,” she whispered slowly, licking her scorched lips. All other words were useless now. “What are you waiting for…? I-I don’t want it either,” she added shaking her head weakly. “I don’t want to… hurt anyone…”

Amelia nearly squeezed her eyes shut when she saw the other vampire move, expecting him to strike, but Alin sat down next to her and his gaze searched her face intently, a bit wide-eyed. He reached up shyly and touched the side of her cheek – his fingers no longer feeling cold against her skin.

“Amelia… please… tell me you’re not like them.”

His voice cracked slightly as he spoke and his eyes glistened with fresh tears threatening to spill. There was something so painfully vulnerable and helpless in it, childish even, like a full glimpse of the scared, lonely little boy he was usually hiding protectively under a smooth but empty façade. And it broke Amelia’s heart, but the accursed thirst was burning the back of her throat with growing intensity, even as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his.    

“Please… help me.”

* * *

 

“I always wanted to go to Rome,” Amelia said, nose pressed against the glass beyond which the Italian landscape bathed in gentle moonlight was unfolding at great speed. It was a bittersweet relief to have left everything behind, with the only hope that Alfred and her parents would eventually understand and accept her decision to go away so brusquely, with only a hastily- made phone call and no goodbyes.

Next to her Alin grunted something, shifting against the hard seat of the night train, and she sought his hand, entwining their fingers together. “So, what are your cousins like? And, do you think they’ll like me?”

The Romanian had mentioned them for the first time as he’d hunted some pigeons for her on her first night as a vampire and had forced her to drink that cloying, sticky, disgusting and yet incredibly tasty and nourishing liquid seeping through the torn feathers. He’d started talking to keep her mind off the gruesome reality of her first feeding.

He hadn’t made it into a long story, because the horror of it still made him flinch, five years afterwards. How his mother had sent him to Italy to study, and live with his orphan cousins and their grandfather, who was a catholic priest and, off the record, a vampire hunter. How his older cousin Lovino had wanted to go to military school and the younger, very talented Feliciano had wanted to study art, but their unyielding Nonno had forced them both into priesthood instead. How Nonno had come home one night, when the siblings had gone out (taking advantage that he wasn’t around), and wasn’t himself anymore… and had first ripped Alin’s throat, then had fed him his blood, for reasons known only to his own madness. How Alin had woken up hours later, in the darkness of the basement, thirst burning his entire body and the first thing he’d heard were his cousins’ steady, regular breaths as they were sleeping soundly upstairs, unaware of what had happened. How they’d been so lucky, because Alin had stumbled into their old dog and had sucked the poor animal dry, relieving his urge and getting a grip on himself before getting to them. And how he’d managed to put an end to the creature Nonno had become before he could wake up the following night and feed on his own grandsons.

“Well, yes and no,” he replied softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Feli likes everyone and Lovino doesn’t like anyone. They talk too much, yell a lot and they’re generally exhausting and hard to live with… Damn I’ll miss living with Lukas, I’d gotten used to the peace and quiet.”

Amelia chuckled softly, leaning to snuggle against his side. “And they’re vampire hunters… That’s kind of exciting, I guess, that I’ll still end up doing this… You never told me how you feel about this plan though…?”

“Well I’m kind of disappointed, to be honest, I mean this really isn’t like Twilight at all,” Alin deadpanned.

  **THE END.**


End file.
